Darkness on light's edge
by SharperImage
Summary: Even in the brightest of places, it lurks, in every shadow, and every hume heart. The darkness that dwells within them, they are bound forever to carry its wearying weight.Can Balthier find his way out of the dark, or will he foever be cast in shadow.
1. Darkness

Sharperimage- well since i couln't stand it much, I decided to clean this chapter up. I think it needed a do-over so this is the result. Fixed some things hopefully, well I really hope you like this,

So the party are in the Lhusu Mines presently. Bl

**Darkness**

Balthier traipsed down the darkly glowing passage, behind the young boy Lamont and the overly eager Vaan. He contemplated the reason behind following a twelve year old boy through a mine, a twelve year old stranger no-less. He leaned over towards Fran, "Do you think he ever learned not to talk to strangers?" he asked casually, keeping a wary eye open for any fiend that might fancy attacking just then.

Fran looked towards the boy, "We should be wary of him, for one who should be unsure of strangers, he is quite adept at not showing it." Balthier looked to the boy who like Vaan was eagerly exploring the passages. He would have liked to know what kind of boy knew their way around politics so easily. As they meandered through the Lhusu Mines, the group of people came out into a large cavern. Vaan caught his breath in awe as there was a bright blue glow coming from the walls themselves; the sky pirate feigned studying the cavern walls keeping an eye on Lamont.

The boy ran to the middle of the room, and kneeled; "this is what I came here to see." Exclaimed Lamont breathlessly. He swept a glowing blue stone out of his pocket, one that looked quite similar to the stone in the walls. He put it next to the stone in the floor and compared the two. Vaan stopped his gaping wonderment to suddenly notice Lamont and surged up behind him. Lamont noticed Vaan, and turned his head back to the blonde.

"What's that?" asked Vaan astonished.

"It's Nethicite, Manufacted Nethicite." Lamont's voice carried a pitch of unreality, as he looked eagerly up at the older boy. Balthier edged closer to Lamont and eyed the stone with mild curiosity.

"Nethicite?" Vaan questioned, his voice was undoubtedly excited as he was caught up in the moment. But, Balthier could tell that the street rat had never heard of such a thing in his life before. Lamont looked back to the ground and swept his hand lightly over the rock that glowed.

"Unlike regular Magicite, Nethicite absorbs magickal energy. _This_ is the fruit of research into the manufacture of Nethicite." Said Lamont, indicating to the mine around them; his voice dropped some as he added more quietly, "All at the hands of the Draklor Laboratory." Balthier covertly turned his head and narrowed his eyes at the boy, his suspicions growing. Raven black hair wasn't common from Bhujerba, or from anywhere much; while Draklor was inside the Empire. He watched as the boy stood, his eyes slits like a snake's.

Lamont walked towards the far wall, like he was being dragged forward by a rope. "So this _is_ where they're the Magicite." His voice was distant and Lamont talking more to himself than to the rest of them. The boy stopped before the wall staring up its great height.

Balthier began walking after the boy, casually asking, "Errand all attended to then?" Lamont drawn into himself, didn't turn around, too busily studying the wall.

"Thank you, I'll repay you shortly." Balthier shook his head, and kept up his slow saunter.

"No, you'll repay us _now_. We have too much on our hands to go on holding yours." Lamont turned slowly around, a guarded look crossing his face. Balthier came before the boy, turning his head to the side. "Where did you hear this fairy tale about 'Nethicite'?" The boy began stepping away from him as Balthier began crowding. He stared the boy straight in the eyes shrugging, "And where did you get that sample you carry?" Lamont stopped backing up as his back the wall, his eyes now wider than before. "What do you know about the Draklor Laboratories?" His hand shot to the wall above the boys shoulder, pinning Lamont there. The boy looked back to him, an unsure look on his face; and Lamont pressed himself flat against the wall.

"Tell me: Who are you?" he asked forcefully, he didn't want to play anymore games with this kid; Draklor was nothing to kid about. Balthier continued to stare straight at Lamont's grey eyes unblinkingly. Vaan rushed up beside him, not comprehending what was transpiring.

"Balthier—." His voice was drowned out by a familiar growl.

"You kept us waiting, Balthier!" Balthier turned and gave a weathering sigh, just what he wanted to show up.

Four Bangaa walked out of the depths of the mine; at their head was a vicious looking green one who scowled. "Ye slipped away in Nalbina, we missed ya!" Ba'gamnan took out a large circular headed saw and started it, the grinding metal sparked as it stared and, the roar echoed about the cave. The Bangaa began spreading out, covering the cavern carefully. "First the judge, and now this boy. The whole affair has the smell of money about it. I may have to wet my beak a little!"

Balthier smirked at Ba'gamnan derisively, "Keep your snout in the trough where it belongs. This thinking ill befits you, Ba'gamnan." Ba'gamnan stared at the sky pirate, turning his head to the side.

"Balthier! Too long have I gone unpaid!" He scowled, "I'll carve my bounty out of that boy!" Vaan stepped bravely forward, standing boldly before the head hunter, yet he was undeniably lost in what was really going on.

"Where's Penelo? Were taking her back!" He shouted angrily to the Bangaa. Ba'gamnan turned his head slowly to Vaan.

"The girlll? Why keep the bait when you've landed the fish?" he shook his head, "We cut her loose on the way here, and off she ran! Cryin' like a babe!" Ba'gamnan lifted his arms high chuckling at the look of concern crossing Vaan's face. Balthier stared hatefully at Ba'gamnan the lizard truly was despicable. Balthier was surprised to see a blue stone fly past his eyes and hit Ba'gamnan square in the eye. He wasted no time, as Lamont ran forward ducking down and grabbing up the stone again and running towards the exit.

As the boy past him, Balthier muttered, "Nice aim." The boy didn't notice and soon he too was making for the exit. He heard a loud grunt and looked back; Fran had just jumped over Ba'gamnan's head and kicked him for good measure. He couldn't help but to smirk at her, Fran would do that. Ba'gamnan now with insult added to injury jumped up and roared.

"After them!" The five of them rushed down the passage, stumbling slightly at the sudden loss of light. Vaan panting, tried to catch up with the boy, managed to breathe out.

"Hey, wait up!" But Lamont was out of sight by then. Balthier looked back over his shoulder to make sure that Basch and Fran were still there.

"We'll not be able to take them all! Fight who we must, and leave the rest."He shouted quickly, his bet lay upon the fact that no one would want to fight this battle; four extremely muscular and malicious Bangaa would be a great challenge. As he ran into the dark he could distinctly remember the loud panting and grunting of the pursuing Bangaa.

As the party ran down a flight of stairs as fast as they could, halfway, Balthier caught sight of Lamont. He quickly checked his feet so as not to trip, when he reached the bottom; Lamont was already gone. Fran and Basch had passed him, and now he struggled to catch up. As he came out onto the railway, he heard someone cry out. Balthier slowed trying to look around in the dark for what he heard. Basch and Fran were keeping pace running side by side, trying to catch Vaan; who was running pell-mell down the railway.

He looked ahead but failed to catch a glimpse of Lamont, Balthier didn't have to look for long though. As he continued running, he encountered a large piece of debris and avoided it to keep from falling. Balthier's foot caught on something soft, and he pitched forward violently. The sky pirate exclaimed in surprise and as he fell to the ground, putting out his arms to break his fall. As he landed his wrist made a loud pop and exploded in pain.

He bit his lips as he lay on the ground, writhing in pain and not even able to make a sound, he sucked in his breath and clutched his wrist in a shaking hand. As the pain faded a little, could look up. Fran wasn't standing too far away, frozen almost solid and staring at something right behind him. Balthier caught his breath, he didn't even need to look back to see what it was.

"Damn." It was the last thing he said before his limbs went cold all over, in his ear he could feel a harsh breath breathe.

"Thought ye could get away from me, didn't ye?" he could feel it creeping up from his toes and fingers slowly freezing his entire body. He wrenched his head up to tell to get a view of the others; they were being pushed into a corner, trying to get to their fallen allies. Three of the strong Bangaa were closing in on Vaan, Fran and Basch. Fran took out her bow at close range ready to fire upon her enemies, and Vaan did the same, pulling out his sword angrily; ready to have a t their opponents. But it would be a hopeless battle, Basch seemed to know this and was slower to draw his weapon; instead looking for a route of safety.

Balthier saw the look in Fran's eyes and knew that she wouldn't stop, till she had gotten to him; Vaan looked terrified, eager, and angry all in one; trying to follow Fran. Balthier didn't want to see them decimated so he did what he had to do, with the last amount of strength he willed his jaw to move, "Didn't you hear what I said?" he called out hoarsely, "Run!" Fran's attention was diverted from the Bangaa, as she looked at him. Her eyes understood what he meant, but she stayed rooted to the spot; unable to leave her companion. Vaan faltered lowering his sword his face suddenly full of shock. Basch leaned over to Fran speaking with urgency.

"We cannot win this fight, bravery is fine; but this is foolhardy. If we do this we won't be helping Balthier." As if to punctuate Basch's point, there was suddenly a loud smash, and Vaan jumped out of the way just in time to avoid a flesh ripping blow. The thief had lost his bravado completely, and now looked terrified. Despite this he stood his ground looking uneasily at Fran, who shook her head.

"You give me far too many worries, Hume." Fran shouted to him, and as fleet as a Sleipner she turned and bounded down the passage, disassembling her bow. Vaan stood still for a second, too confused and dazed to speak. Basch shook the blonds shoulder, pulling him away, Vaan blinked and very suddenly sheathed his sword, running after Basch. The street rat looked over his shoulder getting one last glimpse of the sky pirate before he disappeared. The three Bangaa chased his allies, shouting threats all the while.

Now that Ba'gamnan had him alone, the Bangaa took his time in savoring the moment. Ba'gamnan jerked Balthier to his knees roughly, and once Balthier was sitting like that; the lizard grabbed his hair and jerked his neck back in a harsh manner. Ba'gamnan chuckled sadistically, as Balthier felt the pressure of something cool and sharp being pressed against his throat. He stayed calm, so as not to give the Bangaa an opening to pry at. Balthier soon discovered that it was hard to swallow, impossible almost with his neck bent back. He tried moving, but he couldn't.

Ba'gamnan chuckled once more, and ran the edge of his knife along Balthier's jaw line in a sort of caress; just enough pressure in his knife to leave a red mark and no more. The reptile's voice rasped into his ear in mock regret. "I've waited for this for so long Balthier, and now I have you." Balthier was close to choking now, his throat hurt terribly, and just when he thought he might no longer be able to stand it; a low moan interrupted his suffering. Ba'gamnan stopped, relaxing the pressure on Balthier's neck and took the knife away. He began sputtering as air finally came back to his lungs, while at the same time he tried to swallow.

Just as he got a little more comfortable, Ba'gamnan slammed his chest making the wind go out of Balthier. He lay flat on the ground painfully wheezing and trying to catch his breath again, "Oh, what's this? One of your friends Balthier?" The sky pirate's eyes wandered over to the small frame of a child lying on the ground; it was Lamont. The boy's face was awash with pain, and he lay curled up, clutching an ankle. Through tearing eyes, Balthier saw a pool of blood; its tangy scent filled his nostrils choking him. Ba'gamnan lifted Lamont off the ground; the boy looked like a kitten being held by the scruff. Indefinably stilled from small moans, Lamont was sweating palpably as he kept quiet; a mixture of fear and pain filling his face.

Ba'gamnan chuckled, making it sound more like a cackle; and Lamont shrunk into himself. "It's the boy! Looks like he found a trap." Balthier realized that it was a steel toothed trap biting into Lamont's leg, caught there like an animal. Ba'gamnan smiled wickedly and grabbed the boy's injury. Lamont tried to jerk away, but there was no stopping the sadistic Bangaa; and the kid soon went limp again as Ba'gamnan took a hold of it. The lizard tilted his head, "Does it hurt much?" Lamont's eyes widened afraid to answer his mouth stood open as he watched his leg.

"No?" Asked Ba'gamnan and Lamont shook is head urgently, but it was too late. In Ba'gamnan's eyes lay a demented glee that glowed, as he tightened his grip and slowly started to pull in his ankle. Lamont hissed in pain and bit his lip hard holding back a scream. As the Bangaa began to pull and squeeze harder, Lamont exploded in a howl of pain. It filled Balthier's ears deafeningly as he lay helplessly upon the ground; a dull ache developed in his chest, as his breath came back.

Lamont's screams became loud shouts and cries, interrupted by sobs or breaths. Balthier could hardly stand it; the boy's screams reached a crescendo and then began to quiet. He heard a dull thud as Lamont was tossed to the ground; Balthier could hear quiet weeping until even that became hushed; making the cave become silent from the sudden lack of noise. There were heavy steps and pant's as he heard the other three Bangaa of Ba'gamnan's crew return; his back was to them and Balthier felt anxious to know what became of the others.

The Ba'gamnan before standing grabbed the boy's ankle and pulled apart the traps bloody jaws; the metal hit the ground with a clang as Ba'gamnan walked to the others. "Well?" he asked his henchmen. Balthier heard a rustle, but nothing more, "Nothin', that's the best ye can do!" Shouted Ba'gamnan angrily. Now seemingly forgotten, as the lizard went into a tirade, Balthier explored the magick that held him prisoner. It was a stop spell, holding him; Balthier realized that he might be able to break it, if he concentrated. It was already wearing off, and he felt admittedly warmer than before. He stopped to listen for the Bangaa but they seemed to still be arguing.

Quickly, he pressed against the barrier; again and again till it was quite weak and would finally break when he pushed at the right moment. A clawed hand grabbed the back of his collar making him choke; it dragged him into the middle of the four Bangaa and a foot kicked him onto his back. "We still did well, me brothers. With the bounty from Balthier we'll be able to stay in comfort for a quite a while, yes?" the others nodded with grunts to convey their answer.

Ba'gamnan laughed, "Now, what shall we do with em'?" One of the others with a gruffer voice leaned down and grabbed the coin pouch from Balthier's side.

"I say we take a look and see what he has on his person, so we don't have to rely on just his bounty." Ba'gamnan nodded kneeled down beside Balthier taking his gun.

"I'll take this; too fine a model to be wasted on the markets." The other just grunted and bent down, to rummage through the packs attached to Balthier's belt. Ba'gamnan stayed kneeled down, supervising the others. Balthier couldn't stand it anymore, and finally put the last bit of pressure needed to break the spell. As Ba'gamnan was about to stand, Balthier closed his good hand into a fist, tensing. He let the blow fly; it connected with a loud smack against the tip of Ba'gamnan's snout, sending the Bangaa reeling backwards; clutching his injury, and cussing.

"Get that dratted sky rat!" the others grabbed at him as Balthier rolled to the side, careful not to bump his hand. Before he could reach for his gun, claws grabbed at him and forced him down again. Ba'gamnan snarled angrily, "Lift him to his feet! I want him to face me!"

He went to cramping legs and was forced to stand, Balthier panted heavily from his efforts. "What's wrong, Ba'gamnan? Find out that your stout isn't so sharp after all?" The Bangaa howled in rage and sent a fist, wrenching into his gut. Balthier the air escaped his already hurting lugs far too quickly, his vision blackening. Balthier's head hung forward, and if it wasn't for the strong Bangaas holding him up he would have fallen to his knees.

The lizards lifted him back to his feet pitilessly, and he heard the ragged breaths of the Bangaa before him. A sudden pain filled his wrist as Bwagi one of the Bangaa pressed down on it hard; instinctively he tried to pull his hand away, and Ba'gamnan saw it. The lizards leaned close to his ear, "What's wrong with yer hand Balthier, did you hurt it in your fall?" he asked with mock pity. Bwagi pulled the arm forward and held it out to Ba'gamnan. The Bangaa's head twitched slightly towards it in a manic way, but refrained from snatching it.

Balthier waited for the inevitable, Ba'gamnan smiled, took a hold of his wrist and wrenched it to the side. It was with such force that Balthier couldn't restrain a yelp. Ba'gamnan twisted it to the side even further, white hot pain flared in his wrist and up his arm. Balthier was as helpless as before, everything disappeared from his mind as he leaned the way the pain came from. His wrist began to pop a little, and the sky pirate's eyes snapped open. Black spots ran across his vision in a haze and his knees buckled. He began shuddering out of control as the pain overtook him, almost too great to bear.

A scream began to form in his throat, as some sort of escape from the pain. Before it had even started, a rough hand closed over his throat. Balthier's eyes opened on shock as his voice was choked off. He recalled dimly being lifted into the air dangling like a rag doll; his good hand scrabbling to free his neck. Raspy breaths tried to unsuccessfully break through the suffocation.

Balthier began feeling dizzy and light headed, the world vibrating out of control with each thud-thud of his heart. His arm slowly gave up its futile attempt to free him, and instead fell to his side; feeling like a dead weight. His legs felt heavy too, far too heavy to keep kicking at the air with; so they stopped also.

A wicked chuckle broke through the dream like world he was in, "You can't escape Balthier…" the words didn't register, his eyelids now to heavy to hold open also. From a distance he felt his body landing on something hard, and everything went dark as he drifted into a dreamless sleep….


	2. Shell shock

hey there person! I made a descision to shorten my chapters for all of you so it isn't so long. so now chapters are more easy to read. hope you like it!

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Shell shock

Vaan was running in a daze-- He couldn't believe it, Balthier was gone! He stumbled, wiping the tears that had begun to sting his eyes. As Fran, Basch and he ran recklessly through the dark mines, he could hear shrill screams echoing down the tunnels. What was the headhunter doing to Balthier and Lamont right now? Vaan shuddered at the thought. As he had run away from them, Vaan heard the other Bangaa shouting out, threatening what they would do if they caught him. The mines flew by in a blur, as if he had sped by in an airship oblivious to everything, only stopping to watch in horror as his friend was captured.

Vaan's throat felt on fire, his pulse reverberating through his body, pounding in his ears like the marching of a thousand men at his back. His steps slowed, each one was in agony; his legs shook under his weight, buckling. Exhausted, he looked up the stairs in front of him leading to the entrance to the mines. The bright sunlight shining down in rays through the opening did nothing to raise his spirits.

He looked back over his shoulder, into the dark maw of the mine's cavernous expanse. What had happened back there? Vaan shut his eyes trying to stop the tears that threatened to break loose in a torrent of grief. He could no longer hear the terrorizing shouts of the Bangaa, and was so scared he didn't even notice when they gave up the chase. Why did they need him, only as a play toy that they could dispose of. They had caught their prey. They just wanted to catch him for their sick fun. The tunnel behind him loomed forward, breathing its foul stench upon him, whispering words that made his skin prickle. Vaan stepped back terrified as the mines reached out to grab him.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder and Vaan flinched. He wrenched his head around to the right; an astute faced Basch's nodded to him.

"Vaan, look at me." Vaan couldn't think, his eyes clouding with weariness. Everything appeared to him as a gray life-less blob, nothing held much meaning. "Balthier will be fine, he'll think of something to do. He isn't the kind of man to die easily." Vaan didn't feel much comfort; his ears detected a slight tremor to the captain's solemn words. He lowered his head, directing his eyes towards the ground, his face was slack. As Basch's piercing gaze had delved into him, he became unsettled, and could no longer stand to meet it. He just wanted to sit down and let the ground take his immensely heavy weight off his feet.

A scuffle made Vaan's eyes focus once more over his shoulder. He noticed Fran standing at the opening of the passage. Her entire body was motionless as if she was carved out of granite, not a singe muscle of her tall frame moving. Both of her long black and white splotched ears pointed towards the darkness attentively. The usual hand that she casually rested on her hip was gone. She now held her arms spread out like a bird at full flight, Fran raised her face to the air.

Vaan heard a gasp, as an unnatural gust of air blew his blonde hair askew in a whirlwind of cold. The green light had been gathering about her disappeared, Fran's shoulders slumped as her long lithe arms fell defeated, to her side. Like a bird that was cruelly being cut off from its freedom, her wings brutally clipped, no longer permitting her to fly.

There was a blinding flash as the wind reached its height. Vaan covered his eyes as its brilliance temporarily blinded him.

"I cannot hear his call," whispered Fran, hoarsely, her eyes wide in helplessness. Her quiet words were swept away in the strong wind. As abruptly as the wind had come, it disappeared leaving the air strangely still, as if a pinprick could break the sudden silence.

Remembering the defeated look on Fran's face as the light had come, Vaan took a step towards her, "Fran--"

His sentence was cut off, as her long ears twitched. "Do not worry. I'm fine." her voice rang out callously. She turned; her statuesque face was devoid of all emotion. Standing even straighter, the vigilant air that surrounded her was now replaced by something that made Vaan's skin ripple, like someone had just put a handful of ice down his back. Vaan blinked, stunned. Fran was standing there calmly, her eyes held no fear, anger, nothing. They appeared to be fathomless pits. "We should move on," said Fran's chilling voice breaking the silence, "We can't help Balthier if we just stand here." Basch nodded his head in agreement as Fran turned, walking up the steps to the mine's entrance, Fran's dismissal of the matter that seemed to flash between him and her, dumbfounded him.

He barely noticed Basch following Fran up the stairs. Shouldn't she at least look a little feeling? It seemed unnatural for someone to act so calm when their friend was undoubtedly being tortured at that very second. Just a minute ago, it had seemed as if Fran was shattered into a thousand pieces, but now it was like she didn't care, her demeanor frosting everything in its path.

Slowly, he realized that the others were almost up the stairs. He dashed up after them as they reached the top steps.


	3. In blue and Yellow

In blue and Yellow

Coming out into the fresh, open air of the Lhusu Square, Vaan took a deep breath. It was wonderful to be out of the miserable eeriness of the mines, and in the marvelous sky city of Bhujerba. Each breath of the fresh air washed away the feelings of hopelessness that had enshrouded him.

"Vaan, Hide!" Vaan's eyes flew open; he looked for the source of the voice. It was Basch; crouching behind one of the pillars that held up the entrance, his face stricken with urgency. Vaan complied, dashing over to the pillar opposite Basch, so he was standing beside Fran. He looked down the cobbled street from the mine. Before the fountain at the base of the flight of steps that led out of the Square was a group of people. Mostly soldiers, they were Imperials with the mark of Elites, far out numbering the Bhujerban Sainikah. All had the air of seasoned officers about them. Though the Bhujerban guards lacked the fancily made, if cumbersome armor, of the Imperials, they were not lacking in intensity. All of them had the orderly look of well-kept and trained soldiers.

A flock of doves that had been pecking about the mines took off suddenly as Vaan moved. The people in the middle of the group looked towards the disturbance; they didn't appear to belong to the military. He recognized the one in the orange and white coat with gray hair to be the man Lamont had called Marquis Ondore, the ruler of Bhujerba. Beside the Marquis was a figure in golden armor which shone brilliantly in the sun. That had to be the judge the Marquis was arguing with in the mines! Vaan couldn't see the judge's face for his helmet hid it from view. However, if looking at the Marquises rather satirical expression told Vaan anything, it was that the judge must be in a fouler than usual mood.

Vaan saw a figure clad in blue and yellow leather, with braided blond pig tails held in place by pink-purple feathers. He slid his face a bit farther out from behind the pillar. He gasped-- it was Penelo! So that Bangaa did let her go! Overjoyed, Vaan took a step out from behind his hiding place; it was so good to see her again. Vaan wondered what had happened to her since they had last met, and what that cruel lizard had done to her. "Vaan, no, if you break our cover now there's no way we have a chance of saving Balthier! Use your head!" Basch breathed fervently, he reached his hand out into the open as if to grab him and pull him back. Vaan blinked; he wanted so badly to see Penelo again and for her to mock him for his thoughtlessness. Even if she made a fool out of him, he would have really liked to see his best friend at that moment.

He felt long fingers on his elbow, yanking him back behind the pillar again.

He turned, frowning, "why-" his voice trailed off as Fran's red eyes glittered with a sudden light that hadn't shown earlier. Her eyes burned and commanded him to do as he was told, while her face was completely blank. Her look sent shivers down his spine. He blinked, "but Penelo," he stammered.

"No," said Fran pointedly. "We cannot walk out and grab her. Now she too is part of the events unraveling here." Her voice was unmoving; Vaan sighed and resigned to watching Penelo from a distance. What did Fran mean part of the events? Penelo had nothing to do with this. The judge, who was at least a foot taller than Penelo, looked down towards her. Vaan could hear his impatient voice all the way from his hiding place, yards away.

"As for you my dear, I think I will take you to a reformatory, where you shall be tried for entering a place off limits to the public." The judge looked back to the Marquis, scarcely giving the girl a second glance. "Marquis will--" Penelo burst out suddenly cutting the judge off.

"But you don't understand, I was kidnapped and taken here!" Her eyes were wide "please--"

"Enough!" cried the judge, his voice cutting angrily in on her pleading. Vaan flinched, at the sharp voice ringing in his eardrums. The judge was apparently not used to being interrupted by someone as "lowly" as Penelo. "I shall not listen to your folly anymore, churl. You have broken the law and are thereby punishable by it." The judge took a step forward, looking haughtily at her. Penelo cowered away from him.

Ondore peered inquisitively down at Penelo's frightened face. "As I recall your honor, there was not a law that restricted citizens from treading where they please inside the city of Bhujerba. Unless of course," he looked back to the judge sardonically, "You have taken it upon yourself to proclaim them?" He lifted his eyebrows skeptically, "I will take care of this nuisance for you. Something so trivial surely would get in the way of more important matters for someone as _busy_ as yourself." He cocked his head questioningly.

The judge shook his head, "Do as you like with this commoner; what happens with her has little to do with me." He nodded towards the Marquis, "However, shall I find her doing anything illegal, be sure that she will be punished."

With that, the judge walked up the steps, flanked by the other Arcadian soldiers until Vaan could no longer see them as they walked out of the square. He groaned-- what was Ondore going to do now that_ he_ had Penelo?


	4. making Plans

Making plans

Vaan peeked a little bit farther from behind the pillar, and as he did, Ondore murmured something to Penelo that was inaudible, from so far away a distance. He put his ringed hand on Penelo's shoulder; Penelo looked away, hiding her face from Vaan's view. Her mouth moved, silently, as if she was talking to Vaan through a sheet of thick glass. The Marquis stepped back from her nodding. Vaan heard Basch shifting his weight getting a better look at the aristocrat.

The Marquises voice echoed softly around the square. "For the time being you may stay at my estate, until I determine what to do with you." Penelo looked back at the Marquis and nodded. Vaan could see that although the Marquis's face was grim, he gave a small kindly smile to Penelo. The Bhujerban courteously swept his hand outwards "If you wish?" Penelo stood still for a moment at a loss of what to do, her mouth forming a perfect O.

"B-but-." She hesitated and looked back towards the mines. Vaan's breath caught as her gaze seemed to pause over him, blinking and squinting. He hoped that Penelo had seen him, but then Marquis noticed her look, and Vaan slid back behind the pillar.

"Shall we?" asked the Marquis questioningly.

Penelo's thoughtful gaze jerked back to Ondore. "O-of course," Vaan heard her say quietly. The Marquis stepped foreword, leaning heavily on his cane. Penelo followed his lead; the Bhujerban guards surrounded them as they disappeared up the steps out into the city.

Vaan stared after the vanishing group of people. He wished that he could talk to Penelo again. He stepped out from behind the pillar, and suddenly felt very stupid and isolated. Penelo had always looked out for him, when the imperials had captured him for stealing from the palace, she had been there begging for them to let him go, as he was being dragged away to the Nalbina dungeons, never to see the open sky again. Because he was captured with Balthier at his side, Ba'gamnan had taken her as bate to lure Balthier, Thinking that he knew her. That wasn't it at all. Because of Balthier, his best friend, that had only met the sky Pirate once, was taken hostage. Now Penelo was in the hands of someone who worked for the Empire. Now she was getting into trouble for what he did. He looked towards Basch, who was also staring at the spot where the Marquis had disappeared, "We have to go after her! She doesn't deserve to suffer for _my_ mistake!" Basch's face snapped towards him.

"Vaan, it can't be helped. It was not your fault that Penelo was taken here. We cannot just sneak into the Marquis's estate and grab her; I have a feeling he will be watching for just that kind of stunt to happen. Don't forget there are imperials staying with the Marquis as well, they no doubt will be patrolling for that kind of thing also."

"So?!" Vaan said angrily. "We can sneak by the Imperials! We've done it before! Isn't getting Penelo back the reason why we came here in the first place!?" Vaan pointed towards the stairs. "She's just up there! We could find her in the crowds and, and…." Fran placed a hand on his shoulder, causing Vaan to look towards her defiantly.

"Your friend will be safer for the time being if she is left as she is. Ondore will do her no harm. If we were to intrude upon his estate, he would know of it. Why stir the cauldron to make it boil?" Her voice was cool, yet firm. Eyes unblinking, the Viera looked down at him waiting for a reply.

"But—Penelo—." His voice shook. They had to find her, before something worse happened.

"She will be fine," Basch said firmly. "We have to think of the solution, not the problem." He stepped in front of Vaan, folding his arms.

Vaan stared and shot a smoldering look at Basch; finally letting his head drop as the captain looked sternly at him. "But we don't even know if Balthier is alive," He said bleakly. "Even if he was, how are we going to find him?" Vaan's voice started to shake as he tried to control his emotions. He heard the click of Fran's stiletto shoes on the cobbles; he looked up, her long silver curls faced away from him. Fran propped her slender hand on her waist, looking to the sky.

"In the tunnel I tried to use some of my magick to find Balthier. I failed; I could not hear his voice." Fran turned around, looking at Vaan. "I do not think that he has perished. Though I could not hear him, I could tell that he still had life left in his veins. He was too far out of my range for me to determine where he was… I could only sense the barest trace of him." She looked at Vaan, studying his expression.

"You mean that Baltheir's still alive!?" said Vaan excitedly. He looked at Fran expectantly, like a puppy eagerly awaiting a treat.

"Quickly is not how Ba'gamnan likes to kill. He prefers to get as much fun as he can out of his _toys_ before he throws them away." The way that Fran said the word toys, made Vaan shiver. "If Ba'gamnan was to kill him, he would receive less money for a corpse wanted alive.

No, Ba'gamnan will keep Balthier alive. So he can earn the full reward, but the state Balthier will be in is a different matter." Fran's expression was grim. Vaan swallowed at the thought, his look of joy effectively swept away.

Basch cleared his throat. "It would make sense that Ba'gamnan had a separate route out of the mines for a clean escape. If that is so, maybe he hasn't left the city yet, still thinking his trail is successfully covered. Since the air traffic here is now at a halt he can't leave without causing a disturbance." Basch rubbed his chin, thinking. "He will want to stay low for several days. The hard part will be finding him…, his line of work often is slippery, requiring someone good at staying hidden. If that's true, we shall have to look hard indeed."

Vaan looked at Basch and Fran. "Fran can't you use that Magick to track him, or something?" Vaan felt an inkling of hope at this prospect.

Fran's face became riddled with disappointment and even, shame. "I cannot," she said quietly. Vaan could feel the minute glow of hope extinguish itself at the words. "My magick has drained me of my power; I couldn't light a candle, let alone a spell that tracks someone who is already too far out of my range. My magick has limitations." Suddenly Vaan realized that beneath her mocha skin she was pale. Her eyes were drawn and tired, as if she had spent the night wide-awake. He saw her knees trembling slightly, like a leaf shaking in the wind. For the first instant in what had seemed like forever he became aware of the time, it was late after noon. Fran shut her eyes, putting her hand to her head.

Vaan saw the Veira start to sway, not unlike a rock trying to balance on a precariously high perch. "Fran, are you alright? Maybe we should find an inn; we can start looking around the city from there. Basch and I can search while you rest. We can meet back when it's dark." Fran nodded her head wearily to Vaan. "Maybe when you've got your strength back you can try to find him again, I'm sure we can find something that will help us out." Vaan looked back at the stairs; he would have to settle with assuming Penelo was safe from harm. The Marquis might not be that bad of a person. Vaan looked at Fran as she had put her hand down again; her skin the palest shade Vaan had ever seen it. Fran forced her hand back down, utilizing the last of her strength and stood straight once more. "Let us go." Fran's voice came out in less than a whisper, as she moaned.

"Fran, you all right? Her long legs crumpled beneath her, Fran landed in a heap on the ground. "Fran!" Vaan rushed over to her kneeling down beside the fallen Viera. Her eyes were closed, as her teeth clenched together.

"I need to rest, the magick I did cost me my strength." Her voice came out labored, Basch stepped up beside Vaan.

"Vaan get on her other side we can carry her to an Inn, so she can rest." Fran's eyes opened.

"I do not need to be carried; I am not so week yet that I can't walk. I just need help getting to my feet." Vaan looked at Basch incredulously; Basch's knitted brows furrowed in dispute and worry over the determined Viera glaring up at them.

"Let's help Fran up Vaan; she's right, she is strong enough to walk on her own. We don't need to carry her." Vaan nodded his head, feeling slightly awkward as he helped the Viera to her feet.


	5. Banishing Dreams

Banishing Dreams

_Even from a distance, he had heard the cry. Had his hopes of a change been in vain? Concernedly, he quickened his brisk walk to a jog. A loud thump brought him to a halt, what—what was that? Now fighting off the pangs of panic, he ran. Turning, Balthier came out onto a hallway, all the doors were closed, save for the one at the very end of the hall. Cracked ever so slightly, he could hear muffled voices from within. _

_As he neared the darkly burnished door, he stopped short. Through the small opening, he could see a figure lying motionless on the floor. Overcome by anguish, he threw caution to the wind, crashing into the room._

_Balthier ran to kneel beside her body, the graying blond hair that was usually held back in a neat bun, was loosely splayed across the dark red carpet. Her face, though stained with age, was no less beautiful than it had been when she was younger. Her dress; blue silk, embroidered richly with small pearls and golden thread, made her stunning green eyes stand out even more. He grabbed her frail hand, searching fruitlessly for a pulse. _

_He felt a hot tear slide down his cheek; she couldn't be dead, not now. His gaze flew up, heatedly; he stared at the man towering in front of him. "What did you do?"His voice cracked with rage as he stood, staring accusingly at the man, his hands shaking. _

_An odd light died on the spot in the man's eyes, as he blinked stepping back. Suddenly; a look of confusion, and… hurt crossed the man's face. He looked down at the woman on the floor. His eyes went wide with shock; he looked from the woman to Balthier, mouth moving soundlessly. _

"_Ffamran?" He shook his head, "I-I do not know what happened to her", the man averted his gaze, looking away from Balthier. He took a step towards the woman lying on the ground. Balthier kneeled down, cradling her protectively in his arms. _

"_You've done something to her! Yet you babble on like you don't know", Tears were now pouring freely down his face, as he stared; half hoping, half dreading an answer. The man continued to stare, mouth agape. "Answer me!" Balthier clung tighter to the unconscious woman in his arms. The man flinched away from the wrath in his words, bowing his head._

"_I-I-I do not know." The man's spectacles were hanging oddly on his face, and Balthier realized that the man was crying. He could feel his anger begin to smolder as the man refused to answer him. _

_Just holding his voice in check, it shook as he whispered, "Get out; leave. I never want to see you again." He closed his eyes, struggling to hold back the tears that suddenly wanted to break lose…_

Balthier dimly became aware of an irritating itch in his wrist. Moving slightly to relive the bother, he felt it begin to tingle painfully. Why did it hurt? His mind moved through a thick sludge, slowly he tried to comprehend where he was. A second; more angry throb of his wrist made him grimace. Lifting his eyelids hazily, all that came to his sight was darkness.

He became aware of his back pressed uncomfortably up against something, its surface firm and jagged. His clothes were damp, as if he had just spent the night sleeping in wet grass, not caring weather his intricately tooled vest was ruined. Wearily, he noted that his head rested on his shoulder. An uncomfortable strain in his neck, made him catch his breath.

_The mines, a scream that no one but he heard, come from a shadow._ His eyes snapped open throwing off the last traces of weariness, as his head jerked upright, searching the darkness. The suddenness of his movement caused a sharp twinge to cut across his chest, making him moan.

Slowly the room stopped swimming in his vision, and he made out what appeared to be dark stone walls. Balthier could distinguish no trace of Ba'gamnan or his gang, anywhere. Briefly, he wondered if he was dreaming. A sharp pain in his ribs quickly dismissed the thought; he shut his eyes at the spasm, as he felt dizziness wash over him in waves. He doubled over, fighting down the urge to vomit.

Breathlessly he moaned, each lungful of air was in pain, his chest felt tight, like someone had put a clamp on him; and was slowly turning the handle, squeezing him nothing. He couldn't think as the terrible pain throbbed; each pulse of which blanked his mind, leaving a ringing in his ears as if a shot was constantly being fired next to his head.

Gradually, the throbbing in Balthier's chest eased; he leaned heavily against the wall. Fatigued, he opened his eyes, staring at the scarcely visible room around him. Looking down at his form, Balthier searched for the cause of the paroxysms. His vest was chafed in several spots, while the white shirt beneath it was stained and ripped in several places, all over him cuts and bruises stung like pinpricks when he moved. He cursed the mental image of himself that, popped into his head, covered in dirt and who knew what else. Sitting in a prison that might as well have been a cave, his clothes stained and tattered, it occurred to him that he must have looked very ungentleman like.

He sat for what seemed like an eternity, dozing in and out, as spasms of pain washed through him; leaving him dazed afterwards. Every so often he would once more fall into an exhausted slumber, slumped against the wall. The cell was wet and freezing, and soon he began to shiver under his damp clothes. Moving his arms closer about himself, he realized that both his hands and feet were bound by thick coils of rope.

Unlike the metal cuffs of the imperials, that had mechanical mechanisms to hold the locks closed, these rope restraints were crude in comparison. The series of knots holding him together were tied savagely, cutting off the flow of blood in his hands and feet; made in haste with the easiest available resource. Ba'gamnan must have bee in a hurry to get done, not giving thought to properly shackling him. Searching about, he soon found that there was nothing sharp for him to cut the ropes with. All of his belongings had been stripped away.

Experimentally, he tried to slip through one of the knots, only to return with the sting of chafed wrists. He lifted his hands up to his face, trying to get a better look at the bonds preventing him from movement.

He could feel heat radiating from his right wrist like a furnace. He brought it up to his face, looking carefully at the strange disfigured lump. Even as he bumped it slightly, the pain it gave off was like a lightning strike; it was almost impossible not to irritate it.

Pushing away the constant pain in his wrist, he tentatively brought his hands up to his neck. With as much grace his frozen fingers could muster, he felt the contusions he knew were beginning to form on the soft skin of his neck. Even the feeling of his own hands there, brought up a remnant of the fear that possessed him. As he was once more dangling in the air, unable to breathe or think, as everything went dark. Quickly, he pulled his hands away, banishing the image from his mind.


	6. Unpleasant Memories

Unpleasant Memories

Closing his eyes, Balthier toyed with his memories, falling once more into an uneasy slumber, dreaming of the one who had put these bruises on his neck. It wasn't Ba'gamnan; no, it was Balthier's Father.

He despised the man, even in his sleep Balthier could feel a burning hatred well up from his depths. Despite all his anger, a gut wrenching remorse came to life as well, making him feel strangely empty. So consumed by his lust for greater power, his father had pushed away everything that he ever cared about, so why did he regret his fathers choice?

_Balthier's dream flashed to a scene of his father, his brown hair just beginning to gray, staring at something Balthier couldn't see. He felt the anger rise to an even higher pitch, as his father ignored him. Another flash, now his father's hair was lighter, he was doing an experiment, talking to the air at his shoulder. Constantly conniving with his shadow, only stopping his muttering as the darkness said things only he could hear. Balthier sat at a chair looking away, as his father ignored something he said; a curt wave of the hand shooing him off. All while his father continued talking to the shadow. _

_Shattering the dream reformed,__ and now he was standing, looking admiringly up at his father, as the man ruffled the boy's hair. A smile played wide across his father's face, as he stared lovingly down at his son. Balthier remembered his parents as they used to be, always happy and smiling, __never arguing__ once. He remembered painfully, when his father had cared for such menial things as family. _

_The image of happiness shattered, replaced by a scene of his parents shouting silently at each other, Balthier plugged his ears at a particularly harsh comment his mother shouted, he __was an unknown spectator__, watching fierce opponents battle__. He couldn't stand it, as his father had become mor__e and more reclusive.__W__henever his father d__id come home, his parents fought__. Never during the day though, they would they cope with each other until nightfall, when he was supposedly asleep. _

_The scene faded, and up flared a picture of his father; a light that rarely shone, danced about his eyes. His fathers face seemed younger and happier, Balthier was sure that things were finally turning for the better. His parents hadn't argued in what seemed like forever, and his dad no longer ignored him as he had. He fell for the brief change of his father's character hoping that maybe it would be alright, his life would once more smooth out. Only to find it was a cruel trick. A whirl and the next thing Balthier knew it was as if he were invisible again. Angrily he fought off the reins of an occupation his father forced__ on him. He couldn't believe it! H__e was wrong his father had never changed; he just acted as if he had, to achieve what was important for himself. _

Balthier felt his face flush hotly, as he clenched his jaw angrily, too many happy memories had been thrown by the wayside to rot; he wondered if his father had ever cared for him, and that it wasn't a lie formed to manipulate him.

_Once more the scene faded. He was packing, hastily, fleeing the despicable old man, severing all the ties he could that father had attached to him. No longer would he be made to dance to his father's tune. He was not to be jerked around by his strings like a marionette, like so many others. _

_He ran, slipping through dark alleys, sure that his father could not follow. Taking with him all the Gil in his pockets, and the small items that meant anything to him at all; he had left in haste, never planning to look back. _

_Now he was looking down at something in his hand, a gold plate; inscribed in upon its surface was the name Ffamran. The hand closed angrily about the plate and cast it aside. It landed on the floor with a clang, not even meriting a second glance, as it rolled beneath an empty cabinet. The greatest thing he had left behind. Ffamran was long since dead in his book, he had cut himself anew, abandoning his given name; abandoning his lineage._

_Standing he hefted a small bag onto his back, walking away from his old life. He was Balthier now; a man free of all bonds. No one controlled or manipulated him as his father once had._

_Once more his dream shifted, back to his father. Hair the grayest yet, the man looked up at something, a strange glow inhabiting his eyes. Balthier felt fear wash through him, one thing from his past life he wished he could leave behind most of all. The one string his father had managed to keep tied to him. No matter how he tried to throw it off, it would always be with him, one of the scars he would carry forever._

_Balthier despised all the traits he inherited from his father, but madness was the worst of it; completely unpredictable,_ "Wicked old man." he muttered under his breath angrily, thumping his head against the wall. _It was his father's fault for what had happened…_

Still dozing, Balthier didn't notice a scuffling noise, "Balthier—" the whisper ended as abruptly as it had come, but it was enough to make him jump. He had thought he was the only one in this dank prison. Looking about, Balthier searched for the source of the fleeting whisper. A movement from within the shadows caught his eye; he looked around, craning his neck to get a better view in the darkness. His brown eyes caught sight of a small form, curled into a ball on the cold ground, he sighed in relief. For a second he had thought he imagined the voice.

Turning on his side; he, used his elbow to pull himself across the chilly floor. As he reached the small figure lying in a pathetic heap, he stopped. Catching his breath, as his chest began to get uncomfortably tight. _Why can't he just leave me alone?_ Balthier thought bitterly to himself, still thinking of his father. Using his feet, he pushed himself back against the wall, sustaining himself beside the figure.


	7. Healing

Healing

Balthier nudged the ruffles on the form's white shirt. It jerked towards him; feverish blue-gray eyes stared him down searchingly. Lamont's face was paler than a new moon, stained with tears, and smudges of dirt. Balthier didn't doubt that his own face must have looked much akin to Lamont's, he was sure that there was a cut beneath one of his eyes.

"Balthier?" Lamont's voice cracked, as his eyes darted about the shadows looking for a threat.

"Who else could it be?" He replied glibly, looking down at Lamont. The young boy's expression was like an open book; pain and fear were bold across his face, darker than any text could have managed.

"Quite an interesting pendant you have." Lamont's face momentarily blurred with confusion, and then his eyes cleared understanding the question. Balthier glanced towards the twinned serpents that hung at the boy's neck. "Where did you get it?" He couldn't miss the dark sparkles of that emblem. It seemed to be rather sharp, the only Belonging that appeared to have been left on either of them. Lamont closed his eyes his face turning even paler; Balthier's gaze flew down to Lamont's ankle; it was jutting out strangely. He moved over towards it.

"W-w-what are you doing?" he heard Lamont's voice squeak anxiously behind him. Balthier scooted even closer to the wounded ankle, so that he was sitting on his knees beside it.

"Don't worry this'll only take a minute, relax." He said quietly. He reached out towards the boy's injury; it was a mass of blood. "Your wound is rather ghastly, you're lucky you've been awake for this long." He meant for his voice to be louder, but much to his displeasure it came out in a rasp as his throat stung. Holding the ankle as gently as his bonds would allow him; His face turned grim, as some of the blood oozed thickly around his hands. He heard Lamont cry out, and felt the shattered remains of the boy's ankle weakly try to jerk away from him.

"Try to hold still will you? Moving about isn't going to make it any better." Balthier muttered impatiently through clenched teeth. The pendant seemed rather valuable; it seemed a miracle Ba'gamnan had not taken it. How it had escaped the Bangaa's notice was beyond him. He closed his eyes, concentrating, imagining nothing but darkness, until everything was closed out. The only sound was of his breathing; even and slow, comfortingly peaceful. He felt the cool tingle of his magick at the back of his mind. Warily, he wrapped it around himself.

As he opened his eyes, everything seemed brighter. Even darkness such as this, was penetrated by his magick heightened vision. He felt almost giddy, with the feeling of possessing such vitality. A moment ago he was hurting all over, his right wrist mangled and torn.

It was so hard not to draw more of his magick; it called to him tantalizingly, asking him to take more.

He suppressed the urge, he never liked using his magick, and the sensation of it was uncomfortable. This much was hard enough as it was, as he held it back, fighting to control it. Carefully, he let a tentacle of magick slide away from him, wrapping it around the wounded ankle. Soundlessly, he mumbled the spell under his breath; the words would set his weave of magick to work.

As he stared, small strands broke off the glow, and quickly flew to where he wanted them. It stung coldly, the torrent of magick making him shiver as it laced itself about. This was the worst part. It always was an unpleasant feeling when he drained his magick, but it was much worse when he was tired. He could feel his vision dimming, looking down at the leg, the torrent of blood had ceased.

Slowly he could see the skin begin to knit over, he felt the bone begin to mend itself. Starting to shiver; the light from his shaking hands began to fade. It was all he could do to sit up. The magick still wanted to flow, to complete the spell, but his strength was giving out. If he had his partner Fran's magickal abilities, he would be able to complete the spell easily. He preferred using his magick as a last resort. For it possessed a double edge; unreliable, and arcane. His strength was waning he, couldn't keep it up any longer.

Groaning, he broke the link with his magick, as he did; it was as if a string inside of him snapped in half. He slumped to the ground with a thud, his heart racing. The hurting in his wrist and ribs flared as he sucked at the air. The pain stole his breath as easily as an icy breeze; He was bone weary. With his limited skills in magick, the spell had cost him almost all he was worth. It was as if a vacuum had sucked him dry, as he wearily tried to push himself upright. He couldn't help but to jerk his right wrist as he did. His face tightened with pain, as a moan tore at his throat. Exhaling heavily he pushed himself up against the wall again, despite the pain. He looked at Lamont; the boy was still pale but didn't look quite as sickly as he had before.

"W-why did you heal me?" Balthier's eyes focused on Lamont. He was parched, his dry throat rasping, as pangs of hunger tore at his stomach. He doubted that he would be eating very soon.

"You would have died, if I didn't." He sighed relaxing against the wall, "You looked as if you needed it far more than I did. Besides, with you gone, I would have no one to talk to, in this quaint little cell." His voice was heavy with sarcasm, as he scorned the small prison that was little more than a cave.

"Would you wake me up when Ba'gamnan comes in? Wouldn't want him to see how lazy a guest I am." He said wearily, the damp stone wall felt suddenly far more comfortable, his mind already clouding with weariness. He turned on his side closing his eyes for a brief moment.

"Why does that Bangaa want to capture you so badly, what did you do that was so-- horrible?" Balthier opened the corner of his eye looking at Lamont, the boys face seemed as impossible as it was, to turn even paler. "I- I'm sorry, it was rude of me to ask—."

"Haven't you ever heard of me? Balthier cut in on Lamont, "Like big theft at the so and so place, where hundreds of Gil's worth of stuff has been stolen or some such?" He chuckled mirthlessly to himself, the question was a child's, and curiously ignorant, unaware of what was being fully asked. His face turning into a grim smile, as Lamont stuttered behind him.

"Not- not really, I think I heard you name once, something about a bank?" Lamont's voice faded out lamely, as the boy looked down at his fidgeting hands.

Balthier sighed disappointed, "Great, you haven't even heard of me. After I tried so hard at putting my name on the map, you think I stole from a bank?" he shook his head, "No self respecting leading man would do that; there's no fun to it. That's what some common thief would do. I am a gentleman, and have reputation to uphold; far better than those scoundrels that barley even deserves the name pirate." He looked at Lamont, his demeanor turning suddenly serious.

"My crimes have been quite numerous," he closed his eyes again, voice grim. "I suppose any bounty hunter would jump at the chance of capturing the likes of me. It just happens that Ba'gamnan has been the most successful. I assure you, my bounty would make any scum bag looking for a large pay load want to capture me." Balthier blinked, unsmiling to face the pale features of Lamont.

The boy looked away from Balthier's gaze, "I, I guess that it doesn't really matter does it? No one deserves to have this happen to them, no matter what they've done." Balthier laughed silently to himself, he didn't quite agree with Lamont, if anyone deserved this to happen to them it would be his father, he could still remember one of the horrible things that man had done; its image still fresh in his mind, brought up by his dream.


	8. Serpents

Serpents

He couldn't blame the child for saying it; Lamont in some ways was much like Vaan, honest innocence, and ignorance of others. Despite that there lied a maturity in those young eyes, of one holding much responsibility. As he studied the boy's face, his gaze wandered over to the twinned serpent pendant around the boy's neck; it suddenly occurred to him where that symbol was from.

He had though he left it behind, but it seemed that no matter where he ran, it still followed, conquering all in its path, and destroying everything that resisted it. The Arcadian flag, and the crest of House Solidor; the ruling family of the Empire, both held that symbol. Two sinister serpents, falsehood and treachery, upon a field of crimson, the blood of lives brutally swept away in tyranny. Lamont wore the symbol proudly, out in plain sight for the world to see. Ba'gamnan had been right, in suspecting that the boy was worth something.

He cast suspicious eyes upon Lamont; the boy was very well informed, especially in politics. His certainty of the boy's identity doubled. Lamont seemed to note his change in character, and immediately put on the odd mask of maturity to great for his age. Balthier narrowed his eyes, "tell me, where _did_ you get, such an interesting pendent?" His gaze bore into gray eyes staring down the truth, searching for an answer.

"Oh, it was a gift from my, uh… Uncle, he lives in Archades. Ever since he died I have worn it in respect of him, he was a great man." The stumble to Lamont's voice quieted as he told the lie. Balthier smiled casually, throwing Lamont off balance.

"Really? You know I have been to Archades before, maybe I know him, what was his name?" He stared at Balthier eyes darting slightly thinking of an answer.

"You wouldn't have known him he was a rather, secluded man in his age and only saw me occasionally. He did do a lot of great things in his time, and saved me the adornment." Nodding his head agreeably, Balthier detected an almost imperceptible relaxation in Lamont's posture. The child had fallen for him believing the lie.

"Does it hold enough sentimental value that I possibly couldn't have a look at it?" Balthier asked gesturing towards the snakes around the boy's neck. Lamont's brow twitched turning over the idea of handing the pendant over to the sky pirate, if he could possibly let some stranger look at something important to him. Finally, he reluctantly nodded his head. Balthier smirked, as Lamont undid the tie that hung around his neck. The boy cradled it; as if it might break at any given second, and gently laid it in Balthier's outstretched palms. Its weight in his hands was heavier than he had anticipated, and it fit in his hands the way he expected a dagger to. Both of the serpent's tails were sharp, maybe sharp enough to cut rope even.

A loud crash echoed around the cave, Balthier jerked upright, and concealed the pendant in his cuff. "Perfect timing", he muttered almost sardonically. It was the distraction he needed.

A blinding flash of light glared in; Balthier winced shutting his eyes immediately, momentarily blinded. As he opened them, small colorful blobs were imprinted on his retinas, distorting his vision. A small square of light shone down on the ground in front of him; in the ray of brightness he could make out that Lamont was trembling. Suddenly, a large shadow blocked the beam, obscuring almost all of the light.

Looking up to where the shadow came from, he saw a reptilian snout sticking its way through a small grill. Beside him, Balthier heard Lamont catch his breath. On the other side of what must have been the cells door, came rough calls and shouts. He blinked, the rowdy laughter of the Bangaa cut into his ears, sharp and guttural, and at that point Lamont's face had gone from pale, to white as snow.

One voice he identified as Ba'gamnan's rang over the rest, "Wha' do ye mean closed! We need to get out of this damned city before their little friends come lookin'!" He heard the headhunter begin to growl angrily at the others.

Another, more feminine voice cut in, as they bickered among themselves, "quiet, they're awake! I can hear their breath!" She said in a hushed voice.

Ba'gamnan must have wanted to come down to gloat. Suddenly, the rough voices stopped, and as he looked towards the small opening, a crack that he had not seen earlier, shone through the stone. The metallic ring of a lock clicked, and a flood of light poured into the room. Balthier closed his eyes again; they still were sensitive.

Before he knew it, loud footsteps swarmed into the cell, the orange glow of a lantern reflected brightly around the small cave's walls, making it almost unbearable for him to see as he squinted. Balthier opened his eyes, as he did; Ba'gamnan took a step forward, hissing in the way that only reptile could at the sky pirate before him.

"Enjoying the royal treatment I see, how are ye fairing Balthier? I hope it isn't rude of me to say-- but it seems not very well." Ba'gamnan crooned contemptuously. The other Bangaa broke out into raucous laughter, as Ba'gamnan spat at Balthier's feet.

Balthier smirked, playing along with Ba'gamnan's game. "You know Ba'gamnan; I sincerely wanted to look more presentable in front of a gentleman such as yourself. Sadly, you seem to have taken my effects. I would very much appreciate it if you could give them back."

Ba'gamnan scowled down at him; "unfortunately Balthier, I'm currently unable to be of yer assistance, seeing as how I need my bounty money. Though I'll be glad to give ye yer things back when I get whatever price yer heads worth."

Balthier laughed to himself, he could keep this up all night. "I don't really believe you would give them back, my belongings are rather valuable after all, and you'll probably want more profit than just what I'm worth with the empire. I'd feel much more comfortable if I had them back now instead of later."

Ba'gamnan ever infuriated by Balthier's lack of self-concern growled at him, "Oh, I'm not going to sell them, the money I want will come from whatever I ransom for the little runt over there." Ba'gamnan signaled with his hand, and two Bangaa; Gijuk and Rinok stepped forward.

They grabbed Lamont hoisting him into the air, as the boy broke into a fit of fury, frantically trying to kick them with his bound legs. Lamont looked small and insignificant against the huge frame of the Bangaa, as he was being held in the air by the scruff of his neck. Gijuk and Rinok were smirking deviously and trying to hold back chuckles, as Lamont tried to bite Gijuk's hand.


	9. Flaunting Freedom

Flaunting Freedom

The boy continued to thrash, twisting around as he dangled helplessly in the air. "Let me go! Put me down at once, I command you!" at the outburst of self proclaimed importance by Lamont, the Bangaa burst out into fits of laughter, barely catching their breath. Lamont was breathing heavily, his face still flushed with rage.

Ba'gamnan stepped towards him, a sparkle of amusement lighting his eyes as Lamont stopped his struggling, his eyes gone wide in fear, and hate. Now his wall of desperate fury reduced to rubble.

"Eh? wha' did ye say?" Ba'gamnan craned his neck inquiringly, "A little boy, command us!? As he's being dangled in the air, like a rodent caught in a cats jaws? Hah!" Ba'gamnan moved closer to the boy's ear, "I could slit yer throat right now, and ye would have nary a thing to do about it!" Balthier could see the glint of a dagger being tucked back into its sheath as Ba'gamnan stepped away.

Lamont his face flushed even more now, opened his mouth to say something, which was when Balthier decided to cut in. "You know, it's really isn't proper to threaten a child like that. Have you ever considered learning manners?" He was standing, the ropes that had been around his hands and feet for so long now lay on the floor; chafed where he had used the serpent pendent to cut them.

Dashing quicker than thought, Balthier ran up to Gijuk. Blocking the Bangaa's attack with his right arm, he used his left hand and stabbed Gijuk in the eye with the serpent pendant. The Bangaa reeled back, dropping Lamont in a heap on the floor as he clutched his eye. Rinok dashed over to Gijuk, trying to aid his now blinded ally.

Sliding the pendent down the pocket in his sleeve, Balthier stepped back as Ba'gamnan rushed towards him, dagger flashing in the air. He grabbed the headhunter's wrist that held the knife and twisted it; forcing Ba'gamnan to let go. He put out his foot, tripping Ba'gamnan up. Now in control of the headhunter's momentum; Balthier flung him on the ground in front of the other two, making them stumble over their leader.

Dagger in hand, Balthier stooped down, and hurriedly cut the ropes around Lamont's wrists and ankles. Lamont pushed himself off the floor, rubbing his wrists where they had been burned by the ropes. The boy looked forward anxiously; Bwagi was running towards them, arms spread wide and ready to tackle them to the ground.

"Let's move!" shouted Balthier, as he pulled Lamont up off the floor and pushed the boy out of the way. While at the same time dodging a knife aimed at his head from the Bangaa. Ducking between the four lizard creatures, Balthier caught back up to Lamont who was stumbling and limping on his still wounded ankle towards the door.

Dragging Lamont at a run through the cell's door, Balthier hauled the boy to the left where the dark stone passage arched slightly uphill. Torchlight feebly flickered around the passage, making eerie shadows stand out against the walls. The floor was slippery he could barely get a footing before he stumbling in the slime. Lamont wore a pained expression on his face as he scrambled up behind him, doing his best to run on his injured ankle.

Before long Balthier heard the Bangaa yelling behind them, looking back down the passage he saw them emerging from the cell. He caught his breath as a wave of dizziness crashed into him; he clutched his side where a stitch had formed, breathing shallowly. Balthier felt a hand tugging at his shoulder and realized that he was on his knees. Looking up the hand he saw Lamont, now very pale trying to drag him forward. "Come on we have to go!" Lamont cried down at him.

Shakily, Balthier rose to his feet, the passageway swimming through his vision. He looked to around, a little farther down the passage on the right was a doorway; the torch bracket next to it was empty casting that part of the hall in shadows. Balthier looked back to see the two of the Bangaa advancing, down the dark hall. Quickly, his right hand over the stitch in his side, he stumbled into the room.


	10. Making Monsters

Making Monsters

Vaan and Basch, walked silently beside each other. They both watched Fran carefully, as the Viera strutted along as fast as they did. Vaan was amazed, that after crumpling like a paper doll, she was able to stand; let a lone walk, without aid. Viera had endurance far greater than Humes did, but this seemed to go even beyond her species' limit. She walked as if she was driven by a force that would not let her stop until she had finished her task.

Vaan was sure that Fran must have been exhausted; for her usual mocha skin, was much paler than its normal hue. Still, the glint in her eyes, said if anyone were to voice a complaint, the words would fall upon deaf ears. The deadpan look on her features, said nothing of the physical strain she must have had to put into taking another step. Vaan was past disbelief, now he just walked in awe of her incredible will power.

The three of them were the only ones left, of the original five that had set out to the Lhusu mines. Vaan felt odd, like something was missing, and only a hollow shadow of its memory remained. Balthier's voice that would fill the silence was gone now. Vaan had not known the silver-tongued sky pirate long, but he had immediately liked him. Balthier's habitual use of sarcasm, and more often than not charm, had always been there it seemed. Vaan never could have imagined how much he could miss it.

There was not a word that Balthier said that seemed out of place; And Vaan had always envied the fact that Balthier was never nervous or hesitant. Balthier was intelligent and thoughtful, where he always felt like the sidekick, the one who was crude and was always doing something stupid.

Thinking about it, it felt almost unnatural not to hear the lilting, mocking, and smooth voice that had always broken the silence. Now, there was nothing, to ward off darker thoughts and fears, as if Balthier's cocky attitude was the candles that kept the dark at bay. The thoughts that he had were bad enough, but now they were doubled.

It was as if a cold cement wall separated and encased the three of them, as they walked down the under repaired streets of the sky city, Bhujerba. Nothing broached the ominous and brooding silence of their washed-out march, their feet hitting the cruelly hard earth, with weary clatters. Saying something would have been awkward. As they either, brooded over possible schemes to free their friend, or could not even contemplate the entirely horrid matter.

Vaan walked, with a troubled expression on his face, as he concentrated, not noting much of his surroundings. His feet crunched over the cobbles, as he was deep in thought.

Occasionally, passers-by would stare at the three of them, speculating over the exotic looking Fran. Viera were not known to travel, even beyond their forest home. Rarely did one trek the streets of Bhujerba, especially with two Hume males as her companions. Vaan felt that he knew as little about Viera, as the pedestrians did. Fran took no notice of the open mouthed, dazzled stares she had accorded, as they walked swiftly by, occasionally flicking an ear in annoyance.

Vaan had never really spoken to a Viera, before Fran, and what she did say was not well detailed, and only curtly said. Vaan wondered if all Viera were like this. She looked very young, but he wasn't quite sure that she was. Her eyes were too old, and he had heard a rumor that Viera led very long lives.

As the trio left the mines farther and farther behind, Vaan could no longer keep up the mental strain, no matter how hard he tried to think of something, his thoughts scattered at the smallest sound. All he could think about was of earlier; How Balthier had disappeared into the darkness, and the screams that had later echoed down the chilly, dark tunnels.

So, as the party turned down Cloudborne Row, he couldn't help but to once more voice his doubts aloud. "Where are we going?" Vaan asked, with a curious look to Fran. The Viera continued to walk ahead of him, an ear turned in his direction. Vaan got no answer, and really didn't expect one from her; but twenty questions seemed a good way to pass the time; till they got wherever they were going.

Vaan stopped feeling tired, he stared, blinking into the late afternoon sunlight; people milled about, watching with some interest, the strangers in their midst. Some whispering behind concealing hands, or some of the bolder, took to pointing at the three of them, while gossiping excitedly to their companions.

The sky was quiet to Vaan, a world away from the noise of the Bhujerban Street. He wished fiercely to be up in that endless blue heaven, he loved the thrill flying gave him. However, to his disappointment there were no airships zooming about for him to see, as there should have been. The imperials had ordered all of the local air traffic halted; he missed the sound of Glossair engines soaring through the sky above his head.

Vaan looked at Basch; the fair-haired night had stopped walking also, but was staring at something farther down the street; rather than the bare skies. "Basch—", Vaan blurted, too late.

The captain froze, and immediately looked Vaan straight in the eyes. His face was calm, but his eyes were seething with fury. Basch voice lowered his voice to a growl, "I would appreciate if you stopped calling me that, Vaan."

Vaan took a step back; his eyes open wide at the slip. "S-sorry, I –I didn't mean—,"

"The Cloudborne tavern is before us, it will hide us from prying eyes; should we go in." Vaan jerked around from his staring contest with Basch, to see Fran standing there waiting with a passive expression. He stood there confounded for a second, Fran's voice not even registering in his head.

"Wha—," Vaan squinted his eyes trying to think. Basch looked at him dubiously.

"I think Fran means we found where we were going Vaan." Vaan stared at the captain a little dully; he found that he could not think to clearly.

"O-ok!" said Vaan finally catching on, he felt like hitting himself in the head for his idiocy. Fran stared at him, her head cocking her, an eyebrow arched skeptically. Other than this, her face was clear.

Vaan looked down the street to the Tavern she indicated. The wooden sign swinging above the door had a mug and bottle of ale, the universal symbol that all establishments like it used. Beneath this was a puffy white cloud that read, _'Cloudborne Inn and Tavern'. _

Vaan stared at it for a second and looked to Basch, "Guess it's as good as any." He shrugged, hesitantly.

Basch nodded his head, in approval, "Tis a suitable place for our purpose and relatively far from Ondore's estate without it being in the slums. This is a tavern where clans-people meet, so there is apt to be little Imperial influence here." Basch folded his arms and sighed, "We'll need to start searching soon, if we don't find Balthier and Lamont, I fear I may not be able to do what I must."

His voice was brisk, like making plans for a battle; he talked straight to the point, in a way Vaan found easy to follow. Maybe this really was a battle; trying to find their friends again, Basch never seemed to dally over something once his mind was made; he must have already been moving ahead, plotting out their next course of action.

Basch strolled over to the tavern, Vaan continued to stand where he was, and what did Basch mean exactly? Was he planning to confront the Marquis, the announcer of his execution. Vaan wondered what Basch intended when he spoke of doing something he must. Fran nodded her head accepting their decision and began to saunter casually after Basch.

Vaan blinked snapping out of his thoughts and rushed after them. He caught up to the two of them as they came before the Tavern's door. Near the entrance stood a man, dressed in the garb of a Parijanah—one of the cities extraordinary guides; they were always chocked full of information, or rumors; anything and everything. They often picked up some astonishing stories, and Vaan supposed that they must write it all down in their books they carried. Why else did they have them except to store tidbits of news?

This man was no exception, in his hand rested a large green leather bound book. He, through the many other people in the street, was watching the three of them with an intent curiosity from behind half-moon spectacles. The man—Parijanah stepped kindly, in front of Vaan bowing his head politely.

"_Svagatam_ _Bhadra,_ May I be of assistance to you?" the man's voice was streaked lightly with a Bhujerban accent. Vaan saw Basch about to say no, but then the guide said quickly, "I have news of the most excellent rumor. Would _Bhadra_ like to hear?" Vaan withdrew his hand from the door handle, the guide catching his attention. The Parijanah's face was pointed, as he looked quizzically down at the three, his hazel eyes seemingly continually passed over basch's face; not paying the much out of place Fran a single lick of attention.

"Uuu… sure" said Vaan uncertainly, he cast his companions a wary glance. He didn't really want to hear, and by the look his companions gave him, they weren't that interested either. The Parijanah smiled pleasantly, despite their looks and nodded.

Vaan didn't want the three of them to appear suspicious, and he couldn't just walk away from the man after he said yes; so, they were caught. He felt uneasy as the guide stared at Basch so intently, and why did he ignore Fran so? It would have seemed the Viera was out of place, but Basch? Surely, the guide didn't suspect his identity.

The Parijanah began to speak, "Strange yes, but I have come across the most curious of rumors. It seems word has spread that," now the guide covered his mouth with his hand and looked around. "That _raksas,_ monster, of a man; the king-slayer, still breaths the air!" The Bhujerban spat the word 'king-slayer' with utter venom and hatred, as he breathed angrily and excitedly at them. "Should I ever meet that monster, I cannot begin to describe what I would do to he who betrayed his own, in such a fashion! On the eve of peace, he murdered his own king, and betrayed what he was sworn to protect, disgusting, is it not?

The parijanah stopped for breath, getting his voice under control. He sighed and closed his eyes, "How the man escaped death, I find hard to believe, as I have said, it is only a rumor and should not be held by much sway. Still, this raises many a question that would have interesting answers indeed. Now," The parijanah touched his hand forehead to his head in salute, "if you'll excuse me, _Bhadra_."


	11. Destroying joy and closing the curtain

Banishing joy, and closing the curtain

Vaan blanched, his eyes had gone wide, as he clenched his mouth so it wouldn't fall open. The guide kindly turned away and walked up the street. How did the Parijanah learn of that? Even as he thought that, Vaan could feel his fists tightening in anger. If that man had known, that the so-called 'king-Slayer', was standing right in front of him, what would have happened? Vaan felt sorry for Basch, as he looked over at the ex-captain. Basch's face was downcast with sorrow, but was harder than ever before, a steely glint shone in his eyes. Resolve etched upon his face. Even when he had failed, he still did his best to make amends and protect what he had sworn too.

Vaan remembered; that monster killed his brother. When he had first met the Captain being held in the Nalbina Dungeons, and found that his brother's murderer was alive, he was ready to kill Basch. However, that was before Vaan had learned the truth, the captain, the 'King-Slayer', had killed no one.

Vaan could only have imagined what it must have been like, for Basch, as he was framed; to become one of the most hated people in all of Ivalice, for a crime he had never committed. He hated himself forever thinking Basch was a killer, when he found out, he couldn't believe it, but it was true. Basch was a good man, not a monster.

Feeling all at once nervous about the Parijanah noticing his suspicious demeanor, Vaan without much thought quickly yanked at the Cloudborne's door and rushed inside. In his sudden burst of acceleration, he all but pushed a rather unfortunate moogle down on the ground. He didn't even look as it squeaked angrily, shaking its small and furry fist up at him.

Vaan could feel his legs shaking, as he just about fell over his own feet when an enormous wave of noise crashed into him. Vaan stopped in his tracks, he looked about the noisy tavern with surprise; it was so loud.

People were all over, drinking, talking, and laughing with friends. Sitting at tables, while others sat shadily at the bar, immersing themselves in the legendary Bhujerban _Madhu_. A most infamous alcoholic beverage; no matter how many times Vaan had tried to get his hands on, back in Rabanaster, was always confiscated— by Penelo.

Penelo…, Vaan gasped, he was so worried about so many things that he had forgotten all about her. He felt a fresh wave of anxiety flow through him, as he suddenly began to worry about her. Was Penelo all right? What was Ondore going to do with her? They were the same questions he had asked earlier, but now it seemed that they were hitting harder; and Vaan felt overwhelmed.

Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Fran standing, looking at him tiredly, though her posture spoke of nothing but vigilance. She stood there, like Fran always did, but now something was different. Vaan could see the weariness holding her down, tiredness beyond exhaustion.

Vaan looked past her slightly sloped shoulders, to Basch walking through the door. He blinked, over Basch's shoulder, was the Parijanah. The guide's eyes were narrow, as his head was slanted to the side; he was staring at Basch. Vaan stood there, just inside the doorway of the tavern, watching the Parijanah, wondering if the guide might suddenly leap at Basch like a rabid Courel.

The Parijanah's glasses flashed in the late afternoon sun, as his brown eyes met with Vaan's grey ones. Vaan caught his breath, he felt frozen as the Parijanah' gaze bore into him. Then like a curtain closing over a stage, the Tavern's door swung shut, severing his intimidating stare.

Basch coughed and Vaan looked up. He realized that he had drawn attention to himself; people were staring at Vaan, wondering what he stood gaping at. Vaan could feel his cheeks burning with sudden self-consciousness, and embarrassment. He quickly turned to Fran mumbling, "What now?" Basch stepped up between them, holding a bag of coins in front of Fran.

"I have enough Gil for you to buy a room, I don't need it. We'll meet you back here at sunset." Fran looked at it passively, and nodded her head. Basch dropped the bag of Gil into her extended hand. She blinked and nodded again. Fran walked through the crowd of people to one of the clerks. Soon after giving the money to an all but happy barkeep, she proceeded to follow the clerk up the stairs in the back of the tavern.

Vaan tuned to Basch, "What now?" Basch put his hand on Vaan's shoulder still looking somber.

"I think; I'm going to get a drink." That was all he said before he started walking towards an empty table. Vaan blinked in surprise at the captain.

He rushed up behind Basch saying excitedly, "Does that mean I can have one too!" Basch turned to face him, a tiny glitter of amusement in his eyes; though his face was still grim.

"Yes, but it can't have alcohol in it."

Vaan's excitement popped, and his shoulders dropped, "Why not?" he said indignantly.

Basch's voice lightened, amused at Vaan's childish enthusiasm. "Because you are under aged." Vaan sighed and rolled his eyes, as Basch pulled out a chair and sat down. Seeing nothing else to do he pulled out the chair opposite Basch and dropped into it. Vaan crossed his arms sulkily. He was old enough, and Basch certainly wasn't the one to tell him what to do. He would just have to buy it with his own money, but then again as Vaan looked at his purse, he didn't have that much money left. He sighed and dropped the money back into his pouch. Some how some day he was going to have some of that Madhu. So Vaan settled to cross his arms on the table and rest his head.

"So why can't we talk somewhere where there's less people?" He mumbled into the table. A waiter walked up to them and stood ready for an order.

"Anything I can get for you?" Basch turned to the waiter and asked for a mug of ale. The waiter nodded her head, and looked down at Vann. "How bout you?"

Vaan looked up at her and shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know, how bout—"

Basch leaned forward intervening Vaan's mumble, "Give my friend here a small glass of Madhu, and water it down some." The clerk nodded and walked over to the Bar to order their drinks. Basch turned to a now excited and surprised Vaan, who looked like he was about to jump out of his seat and run around the table with much enthusiasm.

"You mean it, I can really have some!?" he was staring at Basch eagerly awaiting his reply.

Basch nodded his head soberly, "Yes, you might as well try it, I don't think now is a time to say no. But be careful Vaan, it might not taste like you expect it to." Vaan nodded his head absently, staring with mouth agape at their drinks the waiter was now bringing over to them. Vaan watched wondrously as a small glass was set in front of him, his enthusiasm dropped a little at the small amount.

He looked back at Basch nervously, "There isn't that much there."

"There's plenty, take a taste." Vaan took the small glass and held up to his eyes, it was an amber color; he put it to his mouth and tipped the Madhu in.

It was sweet, almost sour and right as he was in mid-swallow it began to burn. His eyes went wide as some of it ripped down his throat. As quickly as he could he tried to spit it out again, but he couldn't seem to breathe. It hurt so bad, he began to splutter.

Basch calmly put down his mug and waited for Vaan to finally spurt out, "How could— anyone— drink this?" It came out in coughs and was follow by wheezing shallow breaths. Vaan closed his tearing eyes and put his head on the table waiting for it to end. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of spluttering choking coughs he managed to begin to breathe normally. Vaan lifted his head off the table he could see Basch sitting there calmly taking a sip of ale. Over at the Bar he could see people snickering behind their hands at him. Vaan sighed; guess Madhu wasn't that great after all.

"See, when we talk down here, it doesn't appear conspicuous." Vaan raised his head, to Basch, and looked moodily away. "Now everyone believes you're a foolish kid, who tried to drink a strong alcoholic beverage. No one thinks that you're suspicious in any way, they let down their guard for someone they deem obviously an idiot." Vaan shot Basch an evil stare, which accorded even more giggles from the people around them.

"Just, how do we search for Balthier?" Vaan said trying to change the subject. He waited for Basch to reply. "My best guess would be to start in the slums of the city. If Ba'gamnan wishes to stay low, where better? We can each search sections, for signs of what might be their hide out. If you find anything come and get me, then we'll need to decide how to get about from there. But at least we will have found their hideout."

Vaan nodded his head still a little angrily as Basch was interrupted by the waiter, "Need anything?" she chuckled under her breath at the look Vaan shot her; Basch Shook his head and she walked away, giggling across the room with another waiter. Vaan hated it when people teased him like that; he did something without much planning and then go made fun of. It wasn't like someone else wouldn't have done the same thing if they had never tasted Madhu before.

Basch to talk again, "We'll meet Fran back here at sunset, which gives us a couple of hours to search; I think I've about finished my ale off, so get ready." Basch then tipped the last drops into his mouth and proceeded to stand. Vaan followed suit and they were soon headed for the door, the waiter brushing by for one last peck of ridicule at Vaan, also asking if they planned to return. Basch nodded his head, and they walking out into the late afternoon sunshine. The door of the tavern swung slowly shut, like a curtain closing over a stage.


	12. Penelo's escape

Penelo's escape

Penelo restlessly looked out the window; far below her was a cobbled rotunda, a fountain burbling the middle. The dusky sunlight in the sky above, made the rippling water in the fountain sparkle like diamonds. It had only been a few hours since she had come to the Marquise's estate; when she got here, she was immediately escorted to the rooms where now she waited. When she had gotten here, she was anxious to see what would happen next. However, as the afternoon wore on, nothing did.

As Penelo wandered around her room, she had discovered the window over looking the main entrance to the Marquis's estate. She had been sitting around for a while but something soon caught her attention. The later it had gotten the stranger the Imperials around the estate began to act. The more they ran around the more nervous she was. Why were the imperials so agitated?

Back at the mines, she could have sworn that she had seen Vaan. "He must have escaped Nalbina, and come to save me." She said to herself quietly, how could he have escaped? No one ever had. But she was sure that she had seen him. He must be in some sort of trouble, and knowing Vaan, if he saw her being taken away by the Marquis he would try to save her. Looking back out the window, she could see several men in armor running around. It was so dark already, she couldn't stand waiting, Vaan needed her, and without her he would get into even more trouble than he already was.

She clutched the handkerchief even harder. He had given it to her, that Balthier. He was with Vaan when he was arrested 'till I get Vaan back', he had said. She couldn't help but wonder that he really if he really had. She needed to get back home, to Vaan, to everyone else that needed her. But how could she escape from here; surrounded by imperials, waiting to throw her in prison. She needed to find Vaan, and get back home. Penelo sat lightly on the bed beside the window; it was so neat, she was afraid to mess it up. It was almost dusk; she needed to get away soon, but how?

A knock on the door made her jump off the bed; "Y-yes?" she called out nervously. The door opened and a woman in livery stepped in, "you are kindly invited to dine with his Excellency the Marquis this evening." Penelo just stared at the servant, an invitation to dine with the Marquis. This was strange; she had never imagined something like this happening, being invited to eat dinner? She looked at the handkerchief in her hand, she needed to escape, and making conversation with the marquis?

That seemed unimaginable, she an unsophisticated street rat; dining with royalty? When the servant said invitation, it sounded more like an order. She nodded her head, and walked over to the servant. The servant bowed and began walking briskly down the hall she stood still for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then began walking to catch back up. The servant looked over her shoulder, and seeing Penelo, lagging stopped for her. Penelo looked all around the extravagant hall. She could see that this was only a small portion of the palace; she could hear clanking armor as Imperials were running around nearby. The servant coughed and she began walking again.

It was awkward, sitting across from the marquis, the ruler of Bhujerba. Even though the table was small, it was filled with more food than she had ever seen. She was so nervous that she couldn't eat anything, just occasionally trying to drink some water. Her hands were shaking, slightly as she toyed with the fork in her hand. She hadn't said a word since she had come in and the Marquis seemed preoccupied. She looked around there were a few servants standing by the wall, waiting for anything that might be needed.

It was very quiet; the Marquis was looking at a piece of paper studiously, deep in thought over something. Just as the Marquis looked up from the paper with a troubled look on his face, there was a knock on the door. His head jerked towards it, "Yes?" he said calmly. The thick door through which the man spoke muffled the reply.

"M-lord, an urgent message from Judge Magister Ghis."

The Marquis nodded his head; "Come", the doors swung open, and in walked one of the Bhujerban Sainikah. The Marquis narrowed his eyes as the captain whispered something into his ear; he nodded to the Captain and stood.

He looked to Penelo and bowed his head to her, "Forgive me, but I have important matters to attend to. I'm sorry we could not properly talk, but my position demands otherwise of me." Penelo watched the Marquis's back as he limped out the door with the Sainikah. What was she going to do now? The food on the table just stood there forlornly, it would have been nice to eat some of it; but there was so much, and she didn't have much of an apatite at the moment.

The servants had seemed to disappear, and she was all alone now. Penelo sat there for a little wondering if one of the servants was about to come fetch her back to her rooms. When none came she looked about restlessly, maybe now that no one was around she could escape this place. She looked at the handkerchief again. It was a pretty crème color with a small frill of lace on its border. She had to get away from here, now would be the best time. How was she going to find her way through this Labyrinth though? She'd just have to think about that later, avoiding the guards would be hard enough, she needed to remember how she got here, and then maybe she could find something like a servant's hall and another way out.

Penelo stood up quietly, the chair she had been sitting in not making a sound, on the softly carpeted floor. Cautiously she tiptoed over to the door and peered through a small crack. There was no one there; ever so slightly, she pushed it farther open, so there was just enough room for her to squeeze through. Now out in the hall she spied a window not far off, it was night now, the last traces of sunlight gone from the world. She looked down the hall she was sure she had gone down this one before; she recognized one of the tapestries that she had admired earlier. As she had been looking about, she recalled seeing a smaller passage with servants going down it off this one. Maybe it would lead to a smaller entrance.

As she walked down the hall, she was relieved when she found the hall she had earlier. It was on the edge of this part of the building, because there were windows along it. As she walked farther and farther down the narrow hall, she began going downwards, steps would take her closer to the ground. The farther and lower she went the more doors spaced equally apart she saw. She took a turn that lead her away from the outer wall and into an intersection of what must have been the servants quarters.

In the corner of this hall was a basket of newly laundered palace livery. Penelo walked over to it; maybe she could put some on and fit in more. Quickly, she looked over her shoulder no one was there. So, she slipped her hand into the basket and pulled out a tunic that would be about her size. It was soft, and imprinted with the Marquis's seal, it was a bit long on her but it would do, the sleeves were long enough to cover her own and it covered most of her cloths. Gathering it up she pulled it over her head, and let it drape over her. Digging around more revealed a belt, and a cloak. Tying the belt around her waist, and folding the cloak under her arm she preceded down the corridor.

When she saw a servant, she quickly cowered away and ignored them, pretending she wasn't there. Strangely, the servant continued to walk by, not even giving her a second glance. Penelo didn't waste time to contemplate it; she rushed on by, when she took another turn, now for sure on ground level, she came across several servants chatting. They looked at her briefly, and ignored her.

Penelo, ever afraid that they might figure out she was trying to run away; scraped up the courage to ask them bluntly, "Uuu… excuse me, but, where, uum..., is the nearest exit? I was supposed to get something outside in the city, but since I'm new here, I lost my way. If one of you could please tell me where to go I would be very grateful." The servants stared at her for a minute as if they were deciding if her story was plausible or not. One of the servants stepped forward, a woman in her middle ages, she smiled kindly at Penelo.

"Ahh…, I remember when I had to do trips like that when I was your age. Ever on call, doing this and that." The woman told Penelo how to get to a door that led to a path that would take her out into the city. The woman, whose hair was a nice brown color stopped Penelo just as she was about to walk away. "Dear, if I were you, I would wear that cloak over your livery. Some times, it's a risky place to be in at night. Especially for someone who wears the Marquis's colors. With those Imperials running about as they are, I wouldn't be surprised if they would be suspicious of someone wearing palace livery."

Penelo smiled and nodded her head to the woman, she almost jumped when the woman mentioned her cloak, and she thought they had figured her out. "Thank you, Miss. I will take care in the city." Penelo bowed kindly to her a scurried off down the hall the woman had told her to go down.

It really was a lovely night, the air was perfect not muggy, nor too chilly. She almost didn't need a cloak, but then again it would help her sneak about. The estate of the Marquis for all its grandeur didn't have much grass in it. Therefore, finding a bush was rather hard, when she did; Penelo quickly stripped off the belt and tunic, taking great care she folded them and neatly laid it beneath the prickly green boughs of the bush.

Looking upwards again, she caught her breath; the great glowing wings of sculpted Magicite soared high into the air. She had seen nothing like them before, they seemed to reach into the starry sky high above. She always liked looking at the sky, it was brilliant tonight, hundreds of stars twinkling and sparkling. She walk further down the cobbled path, green creepers hanging down from the walls on the sides of the path, occasionally grabbed at her face. She ignored them. As she walked more and more following the paths the maid had told her to. She finally came to an iron grate gate. Walking up to it slowly, she could see it was rusty; cautiously she peered through the grate. On the other side were the guards that always watched over this entrance, they stood vigilantly, staring down the night, and challenging any who dared come before them.

How was she going to get past them? They looked like nothing escaped their eyes. Just as Penelo was about to make a run for it through the gate, when there was a clatter. Penelo looked around to see two imperial guards walking up to the Bhujerban ones. She stepped into the shadows warily, trying to avoid the gazes of those cold metal visors. As they passed her hiding place she sighed, maybe these imperials would distract them. As the Imperial soldiers walked up to the Sainikah, they began talking. This was her chance while the guards were distracted. As quietly and quickly as possible, she opened the gate, just enough so she could get through.

Right as she got through, the edge of her cloak caught, and made a loud ripping noise as she pulled away. She froze dead, and pressed herself against the wall into the shadows. The guards and imperials stopped their bickering, and turned around. Penelo pressed herself even more into the shadows, the guards turned back around. Penelo sagged in relief, they didn't see her. Quickly she walked down the edge of the street pressing against the shadows of the wall.

As Penelo disappeared down the shadows of the street into the city of Bhujerba, a figured moved out from the shadows. He quickly looked back over his shoulder, hesitating for only a moment before he set off after the cloaked figure.


	13. Dissapeared

Disappeared

Vaan hung his head, exhausted; he had looked everywhere he could think to, but he and Basch found no trace of their friends. He had been searching well enough, in the last few hours of daylight. Looking in every nook and cranny of the slums for a sign of Ba'gamnan's hideout, but as sunset came closer Vaan felt his hope of finding Balthier and Lamont slide away. It was almost dark now, and as he made his way back across the meandering street to where Basch waited; Vaan noticed a figure melting back into the shadows of an alley. He walked towards the movement curiously; still checking over his shoulder despite the late hour and small amount of people still out and about the city. He could see Basch shooting him a questioning look, and held up his index finger in the dimming light for another second so Basch could give him time to investigate.

Vaan walked down the narrow alley, a little smugly, Basch would just have to wait for him then. He was still a little angry over the fact that Basch had ridiculed him in the tavern. Vaan wondered what it was that had disappeared into the shadows, he could see nothing in the dark to suggest anyone was hiding; and as he felt around with his hands, he could discern that nothing was out of place. Vaan sighed, whoever they were, they were long gone now. He strode out of the alley, opening his mouth to tell Basch that it was nothing. However, to his bewilderment, Basch wasn't there. He stood wide eyed for a second; not really taking in that the captain had disappeared. Vaan took a step to run to where the captain had been.

Suddenly, a horrible pain filled his mind, as something came down on the back of his head with a crack. He had only a moment to blink into the almost faded light of day, before he fell to the dismal paving of the street beneath him. As the darkness of unconsciousness smothered him, he hoped passionately that it wasn't Ba'gamnan; but he couldn't tell if it would be much worse than being caught by the Imperials.

* * *

Penelo hastened down the gloomy street, pulling her cloak ever closer to her prickling skin; the sensation of something watching her returning. She didn't take time to turn around and look for the invisible eyes. They weren't really there, just a side effect of her nerves. She hoped they were her nerves; being a girl of 16 and walking down an empty road in the middle of the night, she thought was reason enough to be on edge. Still, despite her reasoning of it being nothing more than anxiety, the sensation of someone watching tingled down her spine. Penelo about jumped out of her skin as a clatter rung down the walled street, the echoes distorting hollowly through the mild night.

She turned around as fast as she could to see her pursuer, and abruptly stumbled over her cloak. She reached her hand out, as if to grab the air, failing miserably, she landed on her butt. Penelo sat dumbstruck for a second, not registering that she had fallen; and then rapidly scrambled upright on legs that trembled, ready to protect herself. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, as if it would hold of her imminent end. But when nothing horrible happen, she cracked her eyes, all she could see was the outline of crates stacked against each-other and some trash strewn across the ground. Nothing depicting that it had been overturned, or disturbed; like somebody was following her.

She sighed in relief, lowering her shaking hands from the defensive position they had taken. Penelo reasoned she was just afraid that the imperials had seen her sneaking away from Estate. Nothing stirred in the dark beyond, and as she turned around; Penelo found to her embarrassment, it was her own foot that had caused the clanging noise. She had kicked aside a piece of metal that had hit the wall with a clatter; she had made herself fall.

Penelo hung her head at her own stupidity, to think that she had frightened herself; it was just another sign of how anxious she was. She turned back around and began to walk down the street again, her head hung low. This time she placed her feet with more care on the uneven tiles of the lane, her hand glided over the wall to steady her shaking legs. Finding Vaan was what she had to worry about for now, not her delusions of somebody following her. But, she felt hopeless at the prospect of finding him in Bhujerba; she didn't have the slightest idea of where to look first.

The notion of getting away from here seemed hopelessly inane; she wanted to find Vaan and go back home to her life, to forget the imperials and ever being here. The more she thought about it the sillier it became, how was she to find him in all of this; there was about as little of a chance of her seeing an Esper. Even if she did, and headed back home, how different would life be? Could the Empire forget them so quickly, they would be convicts for sure.

Maybe, she didn't see Vaan at all, just a spark of her imagination; and he was still in the Nalbina Dungeons. A tremor passed through her at the prospect, he could be rotting down there right now, thrown out and forgotten. When he would die no-one would be there, no-one would care. She couldn't imagine a world without her best-friend, and she couldn't go back to Ondore. She had left, and probably couldn't get back even if she wanted to. Vaan was here, he had to be; if she couldn't find him in Bhujerba; she would travel to Rabanaster and search for him there.

First was first, try and find Vaan; she nodded her head resolutely and continued walking, not quite sure of where she would end up.


	14. Follower

Follower

Vossler looked curiously at the figure he followed, turning his head to the side. He had difficulty in deciding if he should continue to pursue the cloaked figure before him, or turn back. But seeing someone sneak so easily out of Marquis Ondore's Estate worried him. They didn't seem to have come from the main entrance, or from what he could see they didn't; and this person certainly didn't materialize out of thin air. And the way that they clung to dark places suggested that they were trying to conceal themselves. Could it be an agent, going off to tell the Imperials some important piece of knowledge? Or did they belong to the resistance bounding away with new information?

He could just as easily leave this person be, and go about his business back at Ondore's estate; but his curiosity overcame him. He concluded that no one would have a reason to hide themselves beneath a cloak that was too warm for a fair night like this, and walk down dark deserted alleys if they had nothing to hide.

He scrunched his brow in scrutiny over the short figure, and pressed himself into the shadows, following them like a haunt. If they worked for the resistance, then he might learn some valuable information. Though he too was part of the resistance, the factions in Rabanaster and Bhujerba were separate; rarely was correspondence ever issued between the two. Getting information, or the current condition of things, could prove difficult at times. The resistance was so afraid of being wiped out, and was so secretive and divided, that one city had little, to almost no idea of where the other one was based.

If this person belonged to the Bhujerban resistances as he hoped they were, then they could lead him straight to their hideout, and he would get some long needed information. To find out where Basch was, and see that the traitor completed his business. If Basch had lived up to his side of the bargain; then the plan he had in store to free the supposedly deceased princess Ashelia might have a chance. He had realized that if he went to the Marquis, he would learn what the resistance was doing, and as according to his plan, speak with Ondore of rescuing the princess. To get her away from the Leviathan, an Imperial warship stationed in Bhujerba. Albeit Basch had failed to do as he promised, he would try his best to save her, without assistance if need be.

But, he couldn't get to at the Marquis estate, the gate was small and the men on guard there were almost impossible to get past. They would not aid a member of the resistance, and inside the grounds; there would be too many guards to sneak past. Not to mention the frenzy the Imperials were in; he was unsure as to what they were so upset about, but he had heard tell of someone gone missing. Maybe if he followed this person, they would lead him to the intelligence that he was unable to acquire from the Marquis. Vossler nodded in approval at this; it would help to know what the Imperials were going crazy about. He wouldn't dare approach this figure though, just in case they weren't part of the resistance. All he needed to do for now was follow them anyways.

A clatter on the stone in front of him caught his attention; all of his thoughts faded from his mind as he tensed, ready to disappear in a moments notice. The figure twirled around, and Vossler plastered himself against the wall, right behind a stack of crates. He held his breath, trying to stay as quiet as possible. He heard a loud thump and an umph coming from the person's direction and chanced a look. As Vossler peered between the worn slats of a wooden crate; he could make out the person he was following, sitting dazedly on the ground, staring past where he hid. As they turned their head one way, he briefly he caught a glimpse of blond hair in the pale moonlight; just as he saw it, it disappeared as their head was once more cast in the shadows of their hood.

Vossler blinked and immediately pressed himself back against the wall; as the person jumped to their feet again, standing in a fighting stance. He waited quietly in the shadow of the crates, not daring to move, and heard them sigh dejectedly. Soon he could hear the sound of their footsteps resounding up and down the street, as they began walking once more. Their steps faded away, he peeked out from behind the disheveled pile of crates to check, for the sake of being cautious, if they yet lingered. He saw the tail of their cloak trailing in the night, and he began walking again, this time a greater distance from the person than before. Even if they didn't seem to know he was following them, he didn't want to take any chances. Years of hiding from the Empire had taught him to be wary; and he wouldn't be known unless he wanted to be.

After an eternity of following, Vossler began to consider that this person wasn't some sort of informant at all. They never seemed to be following a certain path, and several times he was sure that this person had passed through the same place twice. He shook his head angrily, as he once more trudged through the same alley. Vossler had trouble deciding if this was worth it anymore, he had business with the Marquis; wouldn't it just be easier to go back and work on a way of getting into the estate covertly? It would be no small task in convincing the Marquis for his help; but maybe he could get some measure of intelligence from Ondore, instead of wandering aimlessly after this person. If they weren't in the resistance, or with the Imperials, who could they work for?

Maybe they were just some servant; but servants would know their way around the city, not go in circles. Or, maybe; they had sensed him and were trying to throw him off the trail by boring him. That made him a little angry that someone would try playing such a trick on him.

As Vossler faded into the shadows of another wall, trying to avoid the occasionally suspicious glances behind a shoulder; he suddenly saw that on the other end of this long winding alley, was one of the main thoroughfares of the city. It was bare of people, and the street lamps did little to light the intersection; but it was still visible and in sight. As he peeled away from the brick wall he had been pressed against with much skill; the person stopped abruptly, at the mouth of the alley; beside the thoroughfare, seemingly unable to decide which way to go. Vossler edged closer to them, curious of what they stood waiting for. The figure turned suddenly, Vossler cursed and stepped back into a dark shadow. He stopped breathing as the cloaked figure stilled, frozen at the edge of light in the darkness. Very slowly they walked backwards, into the light of the street, into the open. In the light he could see the side of their face illuminated softly, pale skin glowing.

To his surprise, he realized that it was a no more than a girl; Vossler stared at her in consternation. His entire idea crumbling to ash, he had come all this way after a child? Who was this; they had slipped away from the Marquis' estate and were wandering aimlessly about the streets. He had followed thinking that she could lead him to answers, but he could have laughed at how foolish he had been. Vossler slammed his fist angrily against the wall in frustration; he had been walking around for an hour, uselessly. The girl stumbled as she turned, and began to run to the other side of the alley. Vossler could only grind his teeth in aggravation, he needed that information; and soon the imperials would leave Bhujerba, his chance would dissipate like smoke in the air.

Vossler took another look at the figure retreating down the alley; they couldn't be a servant, it made no sense, and they couldn't be in the resistance, because they would know their way around the city. If they weren't familiar with the city though, and were someone who had recently come here; then maybe, they were some sort of informant for the imperials. His head jumped in her direction again, it would be just like the Imperials to use a child in their work. What could he lose if she was working for them, the resistance needed more information. With this in mind, Vossler stepped farther from the darkness, on the periphery light. He walked across the street with a new way of going about his purpose in mind; he would get what he wanted to know.


	15. Darkness of Life

Darkness of Life

Penelo scampered across the empty street, the light making the unlit alley before her even blacker. She had seen the dark hulking shadow from the corner of her eye; but as quickly as she saw it, it disappeared, melting back into the shadows. How long had he been following her? He must have seen her walking away from the Marquis' estate, which was the only time; she could recall being so far out in the open. He must have had a hundred chances to jump her, but how come he didn't? She began trotting faster, her heart beating in her throat as fear shrouded her like the cloak she wore. She was afraid of why he was following her, what if he worked for the judge, and was going to arrest her?

Penelo stumbled as her foot caught the cloak again; she teetered precariously, trying to keep from falling flat on her face. She flailed her arms and just caught the wall, and leaned against it. Penelo stood there, bent over trying to catch her breath, and thinking how to slip away from the one who followed her. Penelo's her gaze wrenched upwards at a loud crash, from beneath her hood; she could make out garbage containers spewed across the ground. She heard someone panting, and groaning. Cautiously she edged her way over to the upturned garbage cans.

As she splashed through a puddle; the panting became more discernable. Penelo crouched low to the coarse rough hewn bricks of the ground, moving one of the cans aside. When it rolled away, clinking against the wall behind her; she was shocked to see a boy lying on the ground. His hair was as black as a Ravens, and the glossy sheen it had was the only reason why it stood out from the darkness. The boy was clutching his leg, as if it were injured. As he looked up at her in surprise, she saw that beneath the dirt and grime on his face, he must have been no older than twelve. She could make out in the dim light that his once fine looking clothes were dirty and frayed. Penelo was awash with pity for the youth, his face twisted in pain, he used the arm not clutching his injured leg, to push himself away from her.

Penelo's face softened, as the boy scooted himself up against the wall, as far from her as he could manage. "I-it's ok, I wont hurt you." She cooed gently, and pulled her hood off her head. His expression relaxed a bit as he saw that she was a girl; and Penelo smiled slightly. How much could this boy have gone through, to break his trust so? His eyes were so full of hurt, he tried to hide it behind a mask; but his wounds were to fresh and too deep. She felt sorry for him; she felt sorry for anyone who would be so afraid, and mistrusting of others. Her years as an orphan on the streets had hardened her, and taught her much of other people. She had done this many times before, when a child needed comfort and had no family too give them any. She would smile through her own sadness and troubles, finding the strength to go on with her life at seeing them at peace.

Since the children of the streets had no one to turn to, they took care of each other, and became as close a family as any other. Even as she was so frightened of being caught by her pursuer, she couldn't help but to forget her fear and try to soothe the boy's worries. There had been plenty of times when she had no one to turn to, to ease her pain, of her own parents' death. But she would give anything for someone younger than her to never know that sadness, and as she gazed upon the black haired boy she felt the same protective feeling rise within her. He struggled to put on his mask of maturity, which he could hide behind; and his mouth stuttered slightly as he talked.

"Pl-pl-please, can you get me some help?" The boy hissed in pain and pulled his leg closer to him. Penelo kept her smile; he made an effort to reach out to her; his trust in others not completely gone.

She looked down at the ankle he was holding, and looked back to him, "I know some magick that would help to ease the pain, and heal your ankle for you." She asked gently; not to fast, or hurried like she was afraid, but with compassion and caring. He looked at her gratefully, his mask slipping to reveal the boy again. Before she could blink it had been put back into place and he spoke shakily once more.

"T-thank you, I would like that v-very much." Penelo's smile grew wider; he was not as deeply scarred as she had thought; to accept her offer to heal him was a sign that he trusted her, if only a little. She had always wanted to heal others, and doing this made her heart soar with accomplishment. She couldn't keep the happy smile from her face as the boy tenderly set his injured leg before her. Penelo aspired to learn the art of magick, especially the healing kind; one day she would have liked to go to an Ackademy; but buying the scrolls that had the steps and incantations on them were adequate for now. She used her cure spell on him, though it wasn't as powerful as other magicks, she had used it so much that she could wield it deftly.

She practiced incessantly to increase her skill, and now all her hard work was coming into play. Quick as an Ozmone Hare could sprint, she bridged the gap from her mind to the power of the Mist sizzling in the air around her. The Mist was stronger here than in other places; and she drew in on it. The amount of magick inside of her increasing her senses, she embraced it as it flowed through her unhindered and free, breathing in the stench of the air with new enthusiasm. It was such an amazing feeling, one like no other; as if she could feel the very heart of the earth beating within her. Some people were strange in the way that they avoided it, when magick felt so nice. It was an enigma to her that some people hated this feeling so much, being detached from the chaos around them and finding peace and order within themselves; like finding a light in the darkness of life.


	16. Caught in the act

Caught in the act

She probed the boy's leg assessing the damage it had taken; oddly she felt something, a slight tingle in her mind. It was miniscule, and slowly, the feeling of her own magic corroded it; quickly she reached out to grasp the last glittering glimpse, but it slipped away. The tingle, it had felt strange, alien almost, but not unfamiliar. She couldn't bring to mind what the recognition was, but it did feel like someone had tried healing this boy before. Penelo gazed thoughtfully at the wound; it wasn't bleeding profusely despite the large gash the extended around the boy's leg, almost as if it had been half-healed. Whoever it was had been in a great hurry to do this, and she could tell that the healing was only enough to fix most of the flesh not the bone.

She ran her hand over it lightly, and was repulsed to suddenly get the taste of something metallic in her mouth. In her mind she could see a flash of darkness, and felt a sickening snap reverberate through her. Penelo jumped out of the vision her magick had brought to her mind, shaking. Her arms felt weak like jelly, as she tried to regain her calm. A boy, running from darkness, something horrible that had hurt him badly; but the something that had healed him still lost. A tear slid down her cheek, she felt such a great sorrow beginning to well up inside of her for the boy.

She knew nothing about him, but it didn't stop her from feeling compassion; he must have been through so much, and was still running from something horrible. She gasped as a tear for him slid slowly down her cheek, cutting a glistening path of moisture down her face until it landed with a soundless splash on the ground. Penelo leaned forward suddenly and embraced him in a fierce hug; crying with sorrow for what the boy must have endured. The bridge connecting her to her magick crumbled away as she hugged him closer to her comfortingly. She held him in a hug that lasted a lifetime, her eyes closed, just holding him in a comforting embrace. Soon she could discern quiet weeping from him and she could feel the boy shake slightly as he cried.

It felt good to just sit there, holding a complete stranger and cry her worries away. Penelo was disappointed and relieved when he finally pushed her away; she felt so much lighter than before, relived that she had vented the feelings of anguish and worry that she had pent up inside. Now the only thing that she felt was weariness; the boy was brushing the last remnants of crystalline tears from his eyes, looking suddenly far more at peace than earlier. He looked calm, no longer terrified and dazed; so it was more easily that he managed to put on his mask again. Penelo sighed and looked again at his leg; she would have to heal it now "Thank you." Penelo looked up, startled as she had been about to cast the spell of curing on him.

She smiled sweetly and sadly down on the boy, "You're welcome." She whispered quietly back to him. She looked back down to his leg and up again, "I can heal this quickly, don't worry." She told him, and looked back down to the wound.

"Please, what is your name?" Penelo looked back up surprised this time, and smiled.

"My name's Penelo." She said softly; the boy's eyes became round as saucers, his mouth dropping open slightly. He tried to say something, but all that came out was a strangled whisper of her name. Suddenly she heard a loud clinking footstep from behind; and slowly turned her head to it, dreading what awaited her eyes. She covered the boy protectively from the Imperial soldier, not wanting the man in the cold metal armor to see him. Despite the smile etched into the visor on the helmet, Penelo doubted very much he was smiling under there. She could just imagine the cruel sneer the man was wearing, as the Imperial stared disdainfully down on the two of them. She hoped that this hadn't been the one following her, the one that had seen her escape from the Marquis' estate.

Penelo stared at the Imperial timidly, looking for any way to escape the impending judgment he would pass on her. But there was no way out, she couldn't leave the boy here to fend for himself with an injured leg, so she would have to rough it, no matter what would happen. The soldier didn't even give her a chance to speak, before he broke over her.

"Stand now," he pointed to Penelo and grabbed her shoulder shoving her back away from the boy. She landed roughly, and clutched her burning shoulder with a gasp. Her attention was suddenly riveted to the boy as the soldier gasped at him, and a couple more Imperials into the small alleyway around the man.

"L-lord Larsa?" the man asked hopefully, Penelo was surprised, he sounded... anxious not angry. She stopped rubbing her injured shoulder, confused, did he just say—lord? She watched as the Imperial who had thrown her back, knelt down next to him and bowed his head. The boy's eyes were masked now, as his gaze traveled across the collection of bowing soldiers.

"Y-yes." He nodded his head in answer sounding a little faint. "M-my leg" The boy indicated to the still unhealed ankle and the soldier beside him nodded energetically. Penelo sat there watching almost curiously the odd behavior of the Imperials. In her life she had known few soldiers from Archadia who had ever been kind; but, maybe beneath the layer of cold dead heavy metal there was something of what seemed like real feelings from the man.

Penelo pressed herself against the wall and slowly stood while the soldiers were preoccupied. They were looking for him, the boy, and he was a—lord? She felt confused; did she just help someone from the Empire? Nervously she edged away from the men; the Imperials were taking orders from the boy; they were with the Empire. One of the soldiers noticed her futile attempt at freedom and pointed to her, "You, what were you doing? How did you come across his majesty?"

He stepped towards Penelo, building in menace as he came closer. The other three soldiers broke their attention from the boy. They thought… they thought she had something to do with the boy's state of being. She pressed farther into the wall, and could feel her eyes widening as the Imperial put his hand on the hilt of his soon to be unsheathed sword. All she could do was shrink into the ground beneath the wrath she felt in the man's voice, she opened her mouth to speak, but her words came out in a whisper. "N-no, I-I didn't do anything." Her voice squeaked and she closed her eyes wincing at a blow she knew would come.

The boy's voice suddenly broke in as the Imperial took another ground shaking step towards her, "Please, Leave her be, she helped me, without her… I don't think that I would be as well as I am now." The soldier turned back to the young lord, slowly letting his hand fall from the hilt of his sword, reluctant to let her go so easily.

"Yes, M-lord" he said, nodding his head deferentially to the boy. His expression was the hardness of his helmet, but beneath it his voice was seething with doubt and reluctance. Penelo relaxed and sighed in relief as the soldier stepped back from her and signaled two of the others to him. They bent their heads and began to converse quietly; she looked about uncertainly, what had she gotten herself into? She gasped suddenly as two of the soldiers came up and grabbed both her arms. The Imperial, who must have been the captain stood before her and said, "You will be taken back to estate with his majesty, and explain to us what you have been doing." Penelo felt dread, she would be found out for sure, and then that judge would arrest her; and she would never be able to see Vaan again. The captain turned back to the boy and kneeled down before him, "Sir, allow me to help you over to my post, we will arrange for Judge Ghis to take you back to Marquis Ondore's Estate."

Penelo felt like a flower that had just gotten all of her petals torn away in the wind, despite all of her tries to stay rooted and whole, the world came and swept her up in its merciless breeze.

Penelo was the one who was shocked and confused, as she had no idea of what was going on or why this mysterious boy who was hurt so cruelly was in league with the imperials. She suddenly felt too tired to think as she helped the struggling boy walk down the alley. It seemed that it would be impossible for her to escape the reach of the Imperials, she hadn't found Vaan and was going right back to where she started. Above all, one thought kept surfacing again and again as they soon made their way out into the open street. What had happened to the person following her?


	17. Hume Blood

Hume Blood

Bwagi hissed his frustration into the night, if it hadn't been for those rats for Humes Archadian soldiers, he would have caught that sniveling boy. And, he could have caught that stupid Hume girl too, but those rotten soldiers had to get there first. Ba'gamnan wouldn't be happy to hear about this; Bwagi scowled, he could just imagine the sneer Gijuk would have in store for him. He almost started walking after the soldiers down the street, but held himself in check. He was strong, stronger than Rinok and Gijuk, but he prided himself on being the one who thought things through.

Those soldiers easily had the look of Elites about them, not to mention there were four of them. Bwagi was strong, but he didn't want to get into an unnecessary brawl; the soldiers would soon meet up with their brigade and out number him. He inhaled sharply, once more catching the tingling scent of Humes. Why did those Archadians even demean their haughty selves with riff-raff? He scowled; he knew there was something strange around that boy, something to do with the Empire. One of the Imperials soldiers looked over their shoulder and Bwagi turned around, they would be headed for marquis Ondore's Estate to detain the louts. He started walking back towards the small hideout that was Ba'gamnan's base, he had no other choice, be caught out past curfew or run over by soldiers wouldn't benefit, Ba'gamnan would have to decide what they were to do.

As he reached a wooden inlaid in a narrow building, he stepped in and turned down a stair. Bwagi smiled, as the steps went down deeper into the foundations of the sky continent. Now instead of fruitlessly fighting a contingent of Imperials like one of the others would have over the loss. He would be able to tell his comrades what to expect and plan for; sometimes patience was to be rewarded. Bwagi licked his lips eagerly, as he walked down a dark passage, eagerly awaiting the heady smell of Hume blood.


	18. Song of The Wood

Song of the Wood

Shimmering green foliage fluttered about on an unnatural breeze, the milky sunlight glowing softly on the leaf litter beneath branches that touched the sky. Fran looked about the lush forest, the creaking of the trees and the sigh of the wind reverberating through her soul. The warm sunlight on her cheek did little to warm her heart; inside she was colder than the middle of a blizzard; and seething more than the sea in a hurricane. She tilted her ears, catching a low hum that seemed far away; nothing had changed since she last checked, but it was better safe than sorry. Fran continued to stride down the ardent path, the long swaying branches of a willow brushed gently on her skin as she walked beneath the trees canopy. She knew the paths of the dream as one knew the back of their hand, the curvature of each small plant and leaf easily seen and remembered.

Fran had spent many a day here when she was younger, exploring all of the hidden places within the Wood's realm. There was no mistaking it for any place other than; nothing in the world of the Humes was so rich and unspoiled as she was wild and beautiful. Fran stopped under the cool shade of the willow, feeling the whispers of the wood in her ears. It was melodiously haunting, just on the edge of her hearing. Fran strained her sensitive ears trying to catch what the wood said; it came out in muffled scraps, barely stitching the pieces of a conversation together for her. The branches of the willow began to ruffle again, this time more than just dangling lazily in a breeze. Fran knew what it was that made the willow stir, the spirits were calling to her; demanding her to answer for what she had done. Fran knew that it was forbidden to talk with the spirits of the Wood, but circumstances had made her call out to her old home.

Now that she was here, Fran felt like something was no longer awry within her; it had been so long since she had last touched the essence of the Wood. Her hearing had dimmed since she had left the Wood, but now as she stood in its embrace again she could hear its whispers. Fran shook the Wood's voice from her head as it sung enticingly, she knew what it was the Wood tried to do and refused blatantly. She had forsaken her home long ago, made her choice; and she could never go back. The Wood cried out to her sorrowfully, but she refused to listen to the silken lies, knowing fully what it planned for her if she were to fall for its trap. The leaves rustled angrily about her, picking up in force till it was a gale. Fran crossed her arms in defiance, standing tall despite the raging of the Woods displeasure.

The leaves of the willow began falling around her, dying as they touched the ground. As the Woods malcontent settled, she could see a young Viera standing with her back to her. Fran took a step forward, as she recognized the short hair and mark-less ears. "Mjrn?" The Viera swung around as she heard Fran's voice. Mjrn's eyes widened as she gasped.

"Sister? That is you?" Fran took a step from beneath the willow, nodding her head.

"It is." Mjrn's face widened into a small smile, and she stepped towards Fran meekly, one arm behind her back.

"Sister, you finally came. I have been trying to find you, but until now I could not sense your presence within her."

Fran shook her head and stared into Mjrn's eyes, "I called the Wood to my aid; this was the first time I have tried outside her realm. I could not hear the green word, but as I called, I felt you Mjrn. It is dangerous for you to do this." Mjrn looked into Fran's eyes rebelliously shaking her head.

"I do this to know that you are safe, sister; I make sure that no harm has come to you, and to see what the world beyond is like. When I heard your voice touch hers, I called to you; so that I could speak to you one more time." Fran put her hand on her sister's shoulder comfortingly, and turned her round to face a small pool of water.

"Mjrn this is against the law of the wood, to help an outsider is sacrilege. If Jote were to know of your profanity, she would oust you, and cut you from her." Mjrn's shoulders hunched at Fran's words; but she turned to face her sister strongly.

"If you do not wish to be here, than go. I will let you leave, no one will know that you have been here or spoken to me Fran." Fran raised her brows slightly in surprise, Mjrn had learned much since she had last seen her so long ago. Fran looked at her sister again, the short neck length hair falling before her face.

"I do not think you are incapable of hiding this, Mjrn. But I do not want to see you hurt." Mjrn looked up, a small smile on her lips.

"Why did you call to her then?" Fran blinked, and watched her sister warily. She turned he head away from her sister's gaze remembering the reason.

"I felt something go awry; Mjrn." She looked back at her sister, a storm of emotions battling for control inside of her. Most of all she felt grief swell up like a wave, Fran kept it hidden with her eyes, and continued. "Like a thread being weaved the wrong way. Something happened that shouldn't have, I could feel it in the air, an interference with time's weave." Mjrn's eyes widened in confusion.

Fran continued quietly, "it scared me so; I forgot myself and called to the Wood for reassurance. I heard not the slightest whisper, and I remembered what I was; an outsider. And now you've brought me here." Mjrn suddenly embraced Fran with a small sob, pinning the Viera's arms tight about her. Fran pulled an arm free and pushed Mjrn away; looking coldly at her sister, the glint or sorrow gone from her eyes. "It is no more than I deserve, I left her for the world of the Humes. It is painful for me to be kept here now Mjrn. I would prefer to leave."

Mjrn's face lost the sadness and became cold, "I wish I was a strong as you." She remarked quietly, and quickly retreated a step. "If there is any way that I can help you sister, one last time I would wish to do it."

Fran looked at her, "I would like to leave this place, sister. It hurts; leaving a wound thought healed open to bleed again. I wish to be gone." Mjrn nodded her head at this, a small trickle running from her eye, as her last talk with her sister ended. She turned back to the pool of water singing a small song; it was ghostly and bordered on the voices of the spirits as it danced through the Wood.

"_Come to me, O leaves of Green,_

_Take a look and see._

_Beneath your trees _

_One tall and proud._

_A Dweller of earth and cloud._

_Oh Wood your song so sweet,_

_Let her pass beneath your boughs._

_Long have you protected her,_

_And shield her, you shall."_

Fran strained to hear it's melody but she was even more ashamed of herself as it disappeared. The plants around her began turning greener, perking up at the noiseless sound. Fran looked down as the ground began to transform beneath her feet. She felt wretched for doing this to Mjrn, but she did need one more thing. As the last barely perceptible note resounded, the Wood became no more and faded to white. Fran opened herself to her magick and began tracing runes that glowed in midair. Mjrn had learned much, but not nearly enough.


	19. The Death of Sleep

The Death of Sleep

The wood around Fran blurred, fading to white as the runes she had traced grew brighter. The void filled with white nothingness, seemed to hit its peak and swiftly began to disappear. Something seemed to be taking form, and it soon became a shore; crystal blue waves gently lapping against a sandy beach. Fran heard the cry of gulls flying in the air and sighed mentally, she had found the dream.

Quickly, before she was cemented within, she listened to the hum of the waking world. The drone of a hundred voices all talking at once, glasses moving over tables; the breathing of a flustered bar maid, were some of the many things she heard. There was unusual or out of place, no approaching footsteps. Fran relaxed and the waking world faded from her senses. She didn't particularly like inns and taverns, the noise was annoying when one tried to sleep, seeing as how it just became louder the later it got.

But something about its incessant noise, made the Inn comforting, different than the quiet reverence of the wood. It was an exciting feeling that was far more pleasant for her senses. Fran stopped thinking as the hush of the tropical shore washed over her; she could ponder no longer the real world as this one immersed her; washing worries away just as the water lapped the shore. And as Fran took in the beauty of the dream, she knew where she was, the Phon coast.

A very different place than the wood, where leaf litter had lain there was now soft white sand. The sun was just setting over the horizon, staining everything red and orange. There was a small cough and she turned. Balthier was standing behind her, with a smirk on his face. "Like the view?" he said irreverently, stepping up beside her.

Fran looked thoughtfully back towards the sunset, tilting her head to the side. "Not quite what I would have picked."

Balthier smirked once more and looked at her, "Since my last dream you seem to have grown bolder Fran." he turned around erratically, and Fran suddenly noticed a hammock hanging between a pair of palm trees. Balthier promptly plopped down on it.

Fran followed him, "You come here often?"

Balthier shot her a look, "You should know you come here just as much yourself." Fran raised a skeptical eyebrow; Balthier took far too many liberties. She proceeded to create a straight backed chair. Its pattern was conservative, just barley a trace of leaves over dark green fabric. She sat lightly, crossing one leg over the other and watched the sky pirate swinging back and forth. "You know for a dream, this is far too boring." Blurted the sky pirate with a board expression.

She bobbed her foot casually, ignoring his implications listening to the roll of the ocean. "Balthier, this is no dream. I came to find what became of you; you must remember what happened." Balthier blinked and shifted to the side.

"Please, Fran I—" Balthier's face grew pale, and a gasp so quiet escaped his lips that Fran could barely hear it. The dream around her jolted suddenly, and began to lose its hue. Her chair began dissolving and she quickly stood up, lest she fell. Balthier was standing also, but his gaze was trained on something else. He was facing away from her, and Fran could perceive him breathing irregularly.

The dream began to turn to a grey murk, very unlike the white void. Fran took a step towards Balthier; a wind began to whip her hair wildly about. She called his name soothingly through the din, trying to pull him back into the dream. The tension in Balthier's shoulders relaxed and his breathing settled. The gray melted back into the beach, and her chair was exactly where it had been. Balthier turned to her, his face a mask as he spoke, "Fran, how did you get here?"

"I called on the Wood, and used her power." His face was blank, but the ocean behind her was raging. He nodded his head to her in understanding, and tiredly sat down on the hammock again.

"I don't know where I am Fran. It's dark like a cave, and Ba'gamnan hasn't shown a smidgen of mercy. But I helped that boy escape, 'Lamont'." Fran turned her head to look at him.

"And he was he who we thought?" Balthier nodded wearily.

"Yes, and he almost told them who he was before I interrupted him. Not very bright for the son of the Emperor." Fran eyed Balthier closely, as a pendant suddenly materialized in Balthier's hand, "I got this." Two serpents curling around a each other mouths spread wide, in devilish smiles.

Fran took less than a glance at it, "How did you not escape Balthier, being who you are I would have thought you could escape too."

Balthier looked at her and sighed, putting the pendant away in his pocket; looking uncharacteristically put down, "They broke a few of my ribs and I passed out. That lordling got away though; I don't think they have any other cells in that place, so I'm guessing that he got away. Not to mention that they didn't talk about gutting him."

His voice was quite grim; he wouldn't have known how that Hume child had escaped then. Fran studied the sand, how could she find a place that was what Balthier described, it was beneath the ground. Balthier did something very strange, when he proceeded to yawn, Fran looked up. The Hammock was rocking back and forth gently, Balthier murmuring; "Besides the leading man is far more heroic when he lets the others get out before him." Fran stood and took a step towards the sky pirate.

"Do you know at all where you are?" Balthier's eyes fluttered wider momentarily and he looked into her face.

"Nothing other than they can't get away, and their hideout is concealed." His eyes began closing. Fran looked upon him in concern; his skin was becoming paler, almost ashen as his breathing slowed. Her eyes shot to his face suddenly.

"Balthier, you cannot sleep here." She said urgently, kneeling beside his head. Balthier didn't respond. Quickly she shook his arm, "Balthier to sleep in a dream is death. You must wake up or else our search will be for naught." His eyes moved slightly.

Balthier tried to utter something, and winced, clutching his side. A small trickle of blood ran out of the corner of his mouth. Fran looked around; the dream was starting to fade. Distantly she heard an irregular thump in the beat of the Inn. She turned to Balthier again, there were deep dark circles forming beneath his eyes. She stood to shake him, but as she reached out to her companion her fingers grasped at smoke. Faster than a blink of the eye, the dream went black and she feel into a deep dark pit.

She stood and cupped her hands around her mouth in a last effort to wake Balthier. "Balthier! You must stay awake, or you will die!" Right as her words ended, Fran was jettisoned into her own body. She felt exhausted despite the time she must have spent sleeping. She sat tiredly unable to think, as her mind ran over the last she had seen of the sky pirate for the first in a long time she shook with fear. The sounds of the Inn were suddenly bearing down upon her, as two pairs of feet were making their way up the stairs. Both were too heavy to be Vaan or Basch, and she opened eyes trying to stand


	20. Schedueling

I finally did it!! I FINALLY DID IT! Well...I finally got around to finishing this, i hope it doesn't dissapoint too much, but i've already got most of the next chappie done. I thank god for vacation!

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**Schedueling**

"Why do you come to confront me now Captain Azelas?" Ondore said in a drawn out, tired, and not at all curious way. His head tilted in the same way it was when being cynical. Vossler kept his face level as he returned the Marquis' gaze, and despite himself felt some color rise into his cheeks.

"I came, to rescue the princess Ashelia B'Nargin Dalmasca." He said angrily, and even to him it felt like a lie.

He should have known after he had crossed that street, he was looking for things that simply were not there. By then he could have talked with the Marquis, preparing to rescue the princess Ashelia. However, Vossler feared the Marquis's involvement would only become disaster, and it would be his last resort that he went to Ondore.

_Vossler remembered seeing the caped girl, crouched in fright at something he couldn't see, something else. He stood at the mouth of the alley, looking for pockets of shadow to slip through. He was beginning to creep forward, when there was a crash; Vossler saw her startle, as a waste bin spilled its decaying contents across the ground. Then she got up, and skittered into the shadows of yet another alleyway._

_He walked closer and stopped, a voice's beauty masked by pity and anxiousness; floated towards his stilled form. He couldn't make out the words, and that grated on his thin nerves. As he stood irritatingly still, he wondered whom she must be. Then something else caught his attention._

_At the opposite end of the alley, were several men whose skin caught on fire with silver light. Imperials, he could see by the way they walked, they were on more than a patrol, and none of them strode with the false bravado most of their kind carried. Instead, they were weary and impatient. He pushed farther back into the shadows his instincts taking control of his actions. Seeing them made his hatred for the empire burn; but Vossler pressed farther away from them._

_Two years of hiding from anything suspicious had indeed changed him as he crouched into the shadows now. All his attention was on them, as he tried to be nothing; and Vossler didn't realize the girl was weeping. However, the Imperials did; one of the men turned as he heard her voice from that alley when all the rest of the city was still. The soldier caught the attention of his comrades who also turned to look down the alleyway. Vossler could feel tension rising in his throat, was she in league with the empire?_

Ondore stared, his hands that had been fidgeting with the edge of a paper, stopped. "You decide to tell me this now? After two years not a word and now…you tell me she's alive?" Vossler looked away, he was not feeling in the mood to be lectured, Ashe's time was running out.

_What was he doing? Standing in the shadows of Bhujerba's slums, like a cutthroat, waiting to jump a girl. He shook his head at his own absurdity, this child probably had nothing to do with Empires and wars, she was just a lowly servant sneaking away to find a friend, and lost her way in doing so. Now Imperials had found her past curfew. He shook his crimson face thinking about what he would have done for information, if she refused to tell him. He was a monstrosity; Vossler slumped against the wall; her weeping subsided, and a voice faint with pain, small but bold. Then he heard her name, just a whisper on the still air; "Penelo"._

"Why did you come here to point this out? Is she Amalia, the resistance leader aboard the Leviathan?" Vossler stared into Ondore's smoldering eyes. He hated the words as they slid out.

"Yes, I came here to rescue princess Ashelia from bondage onboard the dreadnaught Leviathan. She can't fall into the Empire's hands."

_He pressed into the shadows; the four soldiers came up behind the girl, 'Penelo,'. Deliberately, the foremost placed his foot on the ground with a clink loud enough to rumble the ground. _

_The girl jumped in fright and Vossler saw her cover something, cowering, but resolute to stay and protect it. Vossler surged upwards angry and ashamed. He had caused a complete stranger misery; his actions might lead to the arrest of a child. Vossler considered jumping into the group of soldiers and saving her, but immediately changed his mind; the constant fancy of one who lived with everlasting guilt. He sunk back to the shadows, slinking through the dark back the way he came._

_Vossler stopped and looked over his shoulder. The soldier threw her away, commanding her to stay back. The man kneeled, and his armored voice rung low through the alleys. "L-Lord Larsa?" Vossler turned on his heels, and stared harder into the shadow where the person lay. That name, that name, rung a bell, he didn't know from where; but now all of his thoughts of leaving erased themselves. An Imperial turned to a shadow where the girl sat pressed against the wall, "You, what were you doing? What have you done to his Majesty?" _

_Vossler felt his eyes grow bigger, this must be a Solidor, Larsa Solidor, royalty—a possible heir to the empire—he clenched his fists furiously; the boy was just lying out in a back alley. The empire's searching, and uprooting of Bhujerba, was for this boy, who had disappeared. The girl…had found him by accident. _

Ondore shook his head a sigh escaping his mouth, "Captain Azelas, why do you think I can help you; I'm a traitor to your cause and a servant of the empire. I am the sort that you abhor, am I not?"  
Vossler leaned closer to the Bhujerban, "Because there's no one else."

"And you actually thought there could be?" A miniscule smile appeared on Ondore's face.

Some of the tension went out of Vossler, "So, you will aid me?" Ondore turned on him, a gleam in his eyes that foretold nothing.

"I may have done things in the past under the wrong impression, but now that I have a card in my hand, I will gladly use it to do right." Vossler nodded, a metaphor would be the best sort of answer the Marquis could make. Vaguely it reminded him of Basch.

"When can I get aboard?"

"For now we must wait for the opportunity to present itself, the fledgling prince Larsa Solidor is injured and incapable of flying. It will no doubt, delay the imperial fleet a day or so. I can provide you a room where there are little disturbances." Vossler nodded, most of that he had already contemplated.

"There's something else I should tell you, A—," A bell from outside rang cutting Vossler's words to pieces, Ondore shot him a look. Vossler stood and rushed towards a different door, and slipped behind it. Ondore would find out sooner or later. Now he would have to sit and wait.


	21. Broken shards

It's finally here! yeah! Well it's Vaan, Basch, and Fran. Time is broken and it's up to them to fix it. I also feel my writing has improved in this chapter I guess. Enjoy!

Broken Shards

Vaan winced in the dull light, a dark wall of stone between his eyes. His nose brushed against its rough surface and claustrophobia made his breath short. He gasped and shoved against the barrier in panic, he couldn't breath. The ground gave way beneath him and a surprised yelp escaped his mouth. He hit the ground and it stole the air from his lungs, convulsing he clutched his side in pain.

High above him was a narrow bench Vaan groaned and rolled to escape its sickening plainness, and his eyes befell a lock of tangled white hair. Vaan sat up; Fran's flawless face was statue still. He pushed himself towards her and entered the halo of cold that wreathed her body. It frightened him when he shook her freezing arm and her eyes remained closed like a real statue.

Vaan pulled himself to his feet, and almost fell as blood rushed from his head and into his toes. The room's width was barely longer than the span of his arms. He stumbled to the door and put his ear to it, voices bled through but only a murmur of the loudest words. Vaan grabbed the latch and gently pulled; the door gave way to his touch. He opened it a fraction of an inch and peered into the room beyond.

He wasn't what you would call a mastermind, but he was good enough a thief to check if the coast were clear. People sat around a table, arguing. The door creaked as he slid it farther open and Vaan slid back into the dark. A Bangaa turned her head, and was at the room sniffing around. "Don't lie boy; I know you're awake in there." she whisper sticky sweet. Vaan stifled his breath and slid into the dark, but the Bangaa was unshakable. "Hey! It's awake, what should I do with em?"

The lizard pressed her eye to the door crack, and Vaan imagined it laughing perversely. The yellow slits disappeared and Vaan sucked in a lungful of air, pushing away sinister thoughts. His fingers curled into fists as the door creaked open and he threw himself with a half feral cry. He charged into the bright light and a stunning whap to the head stopped him dead. "Gee, try ta show yew some fudgin' cour'sesy and all ye Humes wan' ta do is figh'."

The Bangaa gave a mighty shove and threw Vaan forth into the beyond. It was a small room in dark paneling, windows were absent and the best relief on its walls was the door, guarded by Seeq and Bangaa alike. Mismatched chairs sat around a grand dark wooded table, inlaid with fine silver lines in the shapes of the clouds. The assortment of mugs and glasses sitting about, or being held, reflected the various species there, not just Bangaa as Vaan had feared, but it ranged from Hume to Moogle, with everything in between. Rank didn't seem to be determined by money, for some wore fine silk and soft leather sandals, while others possessed worn leather, or metal adornments that had lost their burnish.

Vaan winced anticipating another blow to the head, but none came; he apprehensively looked around the room crushed by their stares, and on the other side of the table, bless the gods sat Basch. He rushed towards the captain in relief, but a strong arm grabbing his shoulder stopped him.

"Do you know who that man is?" The voice was heavy with Bhujerban guile; Vaan caught the captain's eyes, as he was turned around to face the Bhujerban.

"He's Captain Basch Fon Ronsenburg." Vaan declared bluntly, as he stared into not so friendly brown eyes, the man had a shadow of a smirk.

"That he is boy, and he's why you're here." Vaan was pushed towards an open chair near Basch.

"What did you do to Fran? How come she isn't waking up?" Vaan stopped and rubbed the lump on his head; he looked at Basch, "What did they do? She was hardly breathing." His voice was almost a whisper by the time he stumbled the rest of the way to his chair.

"The resistance doesn't take to bribing anymore; or do you get tired of waiting for what you want?" Acid may not have seeped from Basch's calm voice, but his eyes glowed with contempt.

"You're the resistance?" Vaan plopped down into his chair and stared at the room in surprise. The man had a tight smile on his still youthful face, ignoring him.

"I'm surprised that you'll even co-operate with us captain." He was talking to Basch and Basch only, "I honestly thought a man of your…_standing_…would be off doing something else." Vaan looked from the captain's burning eyes to the resistance's spokesperson.

"Hey, if you wanted to know what he was doing why did you attack us? You could have just followed and found out." Basch glanced at him, obviously telling Vaan not to get involved, but that fire had died in the Captains eyes.

The man noticed but let his wry, youthful tongue get the best of him. "We were following you, for quite a while, and you did nothing." He retorted smartly.

Basch's eyes didn't reignite, "One cannot seek, for which they do not know hides." Basch replied gruffly, the brown eyed Bhujerban pulled out a chair, and sat with a pensive expression.

"Could you blame our anxiousness, with _the_ _'kingslayer'_ on our doorstep?" He rubbed his chin and looked across the table to Vaan and Basch, "Could you imagine what it was like watching a dead man walk the streets of the city you protect, watching a man who had been called a murderer among other things, walk those streets alive when your leader had sworn he was dead. A man, which you knew nothing about, a man who is dead. How would he make you feel?"

Vaan ground his teeth as the man sat arrogantly over him, "Nervous?" he croaked. The man looked at him as if he didn't realize Vaan existed prior to that moment, and the corner of Basch's mouth twitched, Vaan could have sworn it was a smile. The resistance man leaned back in his chair looking almost perplexed.

"Nervous, is not how I would put it…what was your name _Bharda_?" He said it with a sigh and friendly voice, and shot an anything _but_ friendly glare at Vaan.

"None of your busi—"

"His name is Vaan, and his brother died at the hands of mine; fallen with Nalbina." The man looked at Vaan with serious eyes.

"It's not about you, captain; it's about how you'll affect our operations _here_, and now. Weather you chose to murder in the past, or no, you are what you are to the masses and what you do will weigh heavily with us." He narrowed his eyes, "I would tell me what that choice may be, or else it might dark in your future again."

Basch gave a grim smile, "The man who does another man's dirty work is never properly or kindly repaid." The Bhujerban looked away obstinately.

"Tell us what you are about captain and you can be free of us." He announced slowly, his accent barbing it with distaste and frustration. Vaan kept his mouth shut in determination, but Basch's was slowly ebbing away.

Fran suddenly appeared from within the closet's interior, and strode past the resistance members slowly. Stopping in front of the brown-eyed man and taking her time to stare about the room, while ignoring the touch of his surprised, greedy, and angry eyes. "If you wish to know our purpose, then we must trust our confided. Deemed fit you would, if you aid us in finding our missing companions. Then it would only be fair to tell of our plans."

The Bhujerban locked eyes with her, "How would you know this? Viera." She to stand behind Vaan, and met the teen's stare with a nod.

"Even if one cannot respond it does not mean they cannot hear; I also have news of my own I must share if we are to find Balthier and Penelo once more." The Bhujerban leaned back in his chair with a sigh staring without really seeing the ceiling.

"Given _Bharda_ I have little other choices to choose. There is something still weaving and I will not get in the way. There is reason a man who is dead breaths and I am eager to know." He shook his head, as if he was regretting all he was saying to them. "What is the news that you have learned Viera?"

Fran pulled out a chair and sat effortlessly sitting lightly upon it.

"My name would be Fran, and the wrought has already been broken. We merely try to fix it." The Bhujerban shot her a uncertain glance, wondering what the Viera Fran referred to, something did seem to askew, if it was this war had even happened, then it had been wrong for countless year.

_Surely, I would have felt it before now. It could not be that, this was not broken before now. There must be something else, but what?_ I hope it was good, and the deal with the Bangaa is that She lisps, I wanted her to have a bigger role in here, but I just couldn't find room :( Maybe she'll have the spotlight a little later on XD

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